Little Remedies
by WolfButler
Summary: Take dosage daily as many times as required to relieve symptoms of stress associated with school, college, exams and/or work etc. Repeat prescriptions may be necessary. Results may vary. LATEST CHAPTER: From the childrenhoods of Butler & Artemis Fowl Senior. Turns out Arty Junior wasn't the first wannabe adventurer in the family. And Butler wasn't the first overworked bodyguard...
1. Prologuey Explaination Thing

_**Little Remedies **_

********As FanFic has proven to be addictive, but is yet to be proven detrimental to health, this treatment cannot be taken in overdose. To be used as a quick-fix or long-term prescription ********

**This product contains no artificial anything, no preservatives (so if it smells funny don't blame me) and is suitable for vegetarians, coeliacs, vegans, nut allergy suffers, dairy intolerant people, wheat intolerant people, the very young, the very old, the terminally bored and anyone else I forgot/ didn't have the time to type out so sorry there guys. **

**ALWAYS READ THE LABEL**

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**Hey. I kinda want a proper fic up before Christmas but seen as though work and not having time to write is ideal conditions for plot-bunny breeding I have a few little fics kicking about. Don't get excited. This probably will only get update once in a blue moon and they're not very long. But they're not very short either. Not really drabbles - sorta a collection of one-shots. Anyway. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer:- I don't own Artemis Fowl. If I did... I dunno *insert witty thing I'd do here*. **

**Anyway, this goes for the whole lot just in case I forget to shove it at the top of some of them - but you knew that anyway.**

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**Quote-that-I-genuinely-made-up-just-know-for-this-and-might-put-on-my-profile-it's-so-weirdly-fitting:-**

**I think of it as, if time was water, your mind is full of piles of junk that builds up every day like unlit bonfires and ideas are sparks. When you have a few ideas and lots of time, even loads of really good big sparks can't light the pile of wet junk. When you have no time, the piles dry up and even the littlest of sparky ideas can catch it all alight and ta-da it lights up into a beautiful roaring fire-beast and you have a full blown story going on in your head that you have to keep cooped up somewhere with all the rest of the boring stuff that gets stuffed into your brain everyday. Then when you write or type or whatever to let it out, this is one of the things that could happen.**

**Hmm. That is quite possibly the most philosophical thing I have ever written. **

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**And yes you could have just skipped all that writing and may have, but you may be glad you didn't. **

**Ah well.**

**On with it then.**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
O**


	2. Back to Back

_**What Big Brothers Are For.**_

**This'll be a mini-series of one-shots revolving round the Butlers and brotherly-sisterly-ness. They'll all have their own titles and they won't be all at once but I'll put WBBAF at the top so you know - you'll probably guess anyway. Here's the first one.**

**WARNINGS:- Mild naughty words. Nothing too bad.**

**Disclaimer:- I don't own Artemis Fowl or any of the others. So ask Eoin Colfer if you want there to be a talking cat in the series... (well we already got a talking horse didn't we?)**

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_**Back to Back**_

She hated doing this.

Not only because of the genuine chance that she could be killed doing it, there was, but it was because it showed a weakness she liked to pretend she didn't have. Especially with her Snooky, her security-blanket-teddy-bear-thing, subject of much torturous teasing in the past, tucked under her arm.

Tip-toeing across the carpeted landing she placed a hand on the cold door-handle. Maybe she shouldn't do this. Maybe she could just go back to bed.

Yes. Forget this. She'd just... something outside the window moved.

The long fingered shadow crept towards her over the floor. OK maybe not. She swallowed her panic and forced her hand down. It was almost silent. Her brother would be bothered about the _almost_ part. She'd have to tell him. Sure, his obsessive hinge oiling was annoying, but at least it made sneaking about the house at night a little easier. Speaking of which...

Juliet placed one bare foot over the threshold. She should just go back. The shadow in the hall was just that. A shadow. Not some nightmare monster following her into the waking world. But it was too late now. She'd never be able to close the door without him waking up and he'd notice in the morning and get paranoid. He always got paranoid. Careful, he called it. Yeah right. The memory giving her strength she pushed on the wood of the door.

It glided over the carpet, the light she'd turned on in the hall flooded the room and the giant shape on the bed shifted slightly. She froze. But after a second there was no more movement but for the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

The glow gleamed off his bare back, highlighting decade old scars, a few she could put memories to. There was the one that stretched from his spine and finished under his armpit. She couldn't see that end but she knew it was there from the Samauri sword the Japanese fighter sent to assassinate Artemis Senior had used. He had failed, obviously. _Poncy idiot with his flashy blades,_ her brother had snorted once bandaged up and back at the manor. There was a circle a little smaller than a golf ball on his right shoulder. There was a matching one on the other side too. That particular bullet had gone right through. There were more, obviously, but the shadows creeping in the hall stopped her staring and she padded forward as quickly and quietly as she could. Not quiet enough apparently. A floorboard let out a miniscule squeak, but that was enough.

It was terrifying really, how fast he could move. In under a second, he had rolled to face her, gun out from under the pillow (Paranoid, she had teased when she found out he kept one there every night. Prepared, he had argued back), safety off, cocked and aimed, probably not even fully conscious yet before his trigger finger was ready to squeeze.

"It's me!" she squeaked as loud as she dared. "It's Juliet."

Her brother's whole body relaxed and he flopped back onto the pillow.

"Jeez..." he groaned, exhaling the last of the tension and trying to calm his adrenaline. "_What_ have I told you about doing that?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want to wake you up..."

"Well you failed on that one," he muttered, reaching across for the light and shuffling into a sitting position.

"I'll... I'll just go," she muttered, embarrassed. She went to back out of the room.

"No you won't," Butler said firmly. "Come here." He patted the bed and she ran the few paces, jumping over an arms length from the bed so nothing under it could grab her. Not that anything would be stupid enough to hide under _her _brother's bed.

The movement told him everything he needed to know. They sat cross-legged and facing each other on the bed. He blinked blearily at her, Juliet's eyes, more adjusted to the light stared back, giant frightened orbs.

"I had a nightmare."

"I gathered," he said wryly.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"You? Scare me?" he snorted and she hit his arm. "Oi. What was that for?

Juliet shrugged.

"What was it, then? This terrifying nightmare so bad you had to nearly give me a heart-attack."

"Horrible. Big scary guys and shadow monsters and they were getting us."

"Us?"

"Me, you and Arty."

"And what happened?"

"We were being chased and then... and then I woke up," Juliet mumbled, hating how stupid it sounded. But it really had been scary. _Really_ scary. She really couldn't have stayed on her own, could she?

Butler was quiet. Great. Now her brother thought she was a complete wuss, Juliet thought miserably.

"And in this dream," he asked, patting her knee. "I just stood there and let this all happen, did I?"

"Well... I don't know. I don't remember that bit," she admitted, latching onto the giant paw and flipping it over. The size of a fully grown tiger's forepaw and almost as tough a palm she traced the lines with her finger, tip dragging over the messy scar line caused by a knife-catch performed, in the long run, to save Artemis.

"Well I promise if it ever happens for real I will not stand there like a complete spoon and let you get hurt. You know that, right?"

Juliet's tracing paused.

"Right?" her brother asked again, chucking her chin with the knuckles of his free hand and forcing her to make eye-contact in the gloom.

Juliet nodded slowly, thinking about the question she was about to ask. She didn't want to annoy her brother, or worse upset him, but she needed to know. "Who would you save first?"

"What?" he frowned, confused.

"Who would you save first? Me or Artemis?"

Butler considered the question.

"Our Artemis?" he confirmed.

"Yes."

Her brother scratched his chin thoughtfully, short fingernails scratching over the six-o'clock shadow forming on his face. "Artemis." He said after a moment's contemplation.

Juliet's face fell and she felt a lump in her throat. She pulled her hand away, dropping it into her lap and staring down at her own palms, willing the tears not to fall.

"But only because I know you can look after yourself," Butler finished. He sat forward and cupped her chin in his huge hands, wiping away a tear that was tracing rebelliously down her cheek with his rough thumb as gently as he could. "And because, quite frankly, Artemis is useless and could drown himself in a ball pool."

Juliet gave a watery sort of giggle and her brother pulled her close against his warm chest where she could feel the raw power that surged beneath his skin and was the reason that no-one in existance or beyond would get away with hurting her.

"Come her you big softy," he muttered into her hair. "I'll _always_ save you."

"Promise?" she asked, knowing the stupidity of the question.

"Promise." he whispered, knowing the stupidity of the answer. He resisted the urge to clear the suspicious lump that was forming in his throat. _Bloody hell man. Pull yourself together._ Severely hoping his uncle never found out about this incident he squeezed his sister in a bear hug, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the ever-present Juliet-ness that he would recognise anywhere. He sniffed slightly too loudly. Juliet was bound to have noticed that. _Jai-zus flippin' Christ. Call yourself a Butler? _Who was he to call someone a softy?

They sat for a while like that, until Juliet's breathing stopped being the choky sobs she was trying to stifle and became quiet and even again. And then even longer, until Butler thought she might have fallen asleep. Right until it became almost uncomfotable and he shifted her into the crook of his arm and tried to settle more comfortably against the headboard.

"You smell," she mumbled into his armpit.

"Oh jee, thanks there Jules," he grumbled. "Here's me being all caring and big-brotherly and cricking my sodding neck on this bloody bed-frame and all you can comment on is my lack of deodorant."

"Well you do pong a bit," she commented, sitting up again.

"Well I'm sorry for not whacking on the old deo to catch a few zeds," he complained sarcastically. "I wasn't exactly expecting a midnight visitor."

"Sorry," she muttered shamefaced. "I was being silly."

"No you weren't. Even I get bad dreams."

"Really?"

"What? You think they leave me alone just because I smell bad?"

She laughed, punching him again. He feigned agony as usual and covered his face in mock despair. Before he had time to go through the whole rigmarole of 'The pain, the agony, the whatever-part-of-him-she'd-just-hit ache' she spoke again.

"No. Because of this," she poked the patch of blue skin on his shoulder.

"What that?" Butler flexed his arm, the tattoo dancing over the muscle. "Nah. They aren't afraid of diamonds. That's why I take hay to bed."

"You take _what_?" she said, confused.

"To feed the nightmares," he said seriously. She blinked. Butler rolled his eyes. Seriously, his sense of humour was wasted in this line of work. Perhaps he should just become a stand-up comedian. Then again, thinking about how much trouble Artemis would get in without him... _nah, best not_.

"Nightmares. Night_ma__res_," he explained the joke tiredly. "Mares. You know, girl horses." He finished the explanation with an impression he wouldn't be caught dead doing anywhere, or in front of anyone, else. "Geddit?"

Juliet got it and hit him again.

"You're daft in the head, you are," she told him seriously.

"Ah, yes. A few too many knocks on the bonce methinks," Butler crossed his eyes at her.

"Yeah, that too. But you really are completely batty," Juliet shook her head.

"Oi, so are you! It must run in the family," he tickled her in the ribs and carried on his attack until she begged for mercy. When the hushed giggling finally subsided somewhat, he spoke again."Now then missus, do you need an escort back to your room? Or do you want me to lend you something you can fire at the monsters and give Uncle a heart-attack about?"

Juliet stopped laughing. "Well," she shifted uneasily, biting her lip. "I was hoping I could... maybe... just... stay here?"

"Course you can," her brother smiled, warmly at her. "If you don't mind your stinky big brother taking up most of the room."

"Nope," Juliet grinned. "If you don't mind your little sister pressing cold feet on your legs."

"Oh no! Cold feet! The horror!" he said sarcastically. "How will I ever survive? I mean all those years of hardship and injuries... but _cold feet_? I dunno if I can survive _that_..."

Juliet snickered, crawling under the duvet beside him, hooking her toes on the hem of his trouser legs and pressing the soles of her (actually pretty damn freezing, not that he would admit it) feet on the backs of his warm knees as he leant over to turn off the light. She snuggled her back against his, feeling the comforting heat spreading over her back like the world's biggest, and best, hot water bottle. She may have been frightened, but they were Butlers. Emotional shows were not big. Besides, spooning would be uncomfortable and compromise the elder's ability to aim and shoot intruders quickly. Speaking of which, he retrieved his favourite gun from the bedside table and slid his Sig Sauer under his pillow.

"That you getting your sleepy thing?" Juliet mumbled.

"My sleepy _what_?"

"Look - I know that gun is like my Snooky," Juliet waggled the dog-headed blanket at him. "Don't think I don't know you, 'cause I do."

"A gun, is _not_ the same as a blanket," Butler scowled. "You try scaring something off with that old thing."

"He's not an _old thing_. And besides, yes it is the same. You couldn't sleep without it, could you? So it's your sleepy thing."

"Argh. Alright you got me. Considering the definition of a sleepy... thing... I suppose it is. But don't let Uncle hear you calling my Sig that," he growled. "He'll think I'm soft."

"You are."

"Occasionally."

"To me."

"Most of the time."

There was quiet again.

"You didn't really think you'd be able to get in here without me waking up did you?"

"I got in _three paces_ this time."

"A whole three? Jeesh, I need to up my game," Butler shook his head.

"Yeah but I was taught by you, not just anyone could sneak in your room. That takes pure skill,"

"Big head. But you _were_ taught by the best I suppose..." he mused.

"Big head," she countered.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not."

She laughed. "Then what are you?"

"I dunno. Ah well, it's probably a good thing my head's big enough anyway."

"Why?"

"Can you imagine what a prat I'd look like with a _tiny_ head?"

They laughed at each other for a second, the shaking almost pushing her off the bed.

"Right," an enormous yawn covered the word. "Nighty night, sis."

"Nighty night, bro."

Silence. But for their breathing.

Juliet supposed this was what it was like for what's-her-face sharing her bed with the polar bear in that book Butler used to read to her when she was little - _The Bear - _she thought it was called.

Guess that made her little bear. She was ok with that. Little bears grow into big bears some day, with a little help from their big brothers, that is.

His heartbeat resonated through both their ribs and his breathing slowed so much that she'd breathed twice before he'd even fully exhaled once.

"Love you, Dom," she whispered, almost silently, expecting him to be asleep.

"Love you too Jules," came the sleepy reply.

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**Dunno what ages this would be. Pretty young but not play-school young.**

**She probably shouldn't have eaten that cheese butty as a midnight snack...**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	3. A Bout of The Itchies

_**What Big Brothers Are For.**_

_**Yes another one :D**_

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_Scrape._

"Ow."

_Scrape._

"Owch."

_Scrape._

"_Ow_ch."

_Scrape._

"Owch! For God's sake Dom - get off me! I'll just shave my head!"

"Uh-huh. And go round looking like an egg for the rest of term?" He set down the comb and folded his arms. Argument time and she was _not_ winning this one. _You said that about the hamster,_ his inner-Juliet reminded him. _Shut up. It's enough to have to deal with one of you at a time._

"I'd look like you."

"Exactly. And how many times have you told me I look like an egg with a face?"

"A few," Juliet mumbled. "But please can I shave my head. Not just 'cause of the nits, I wanna be more like you."

"Well tough."

"Please, Dom?" She pulled the patented puppy dog eyes with pouty lip to boot.

Butler rolled his eyes. "No, Jules, you cannot shave your head."

"But..." Juliet protested.

"I said no," her brother said firmly. "If you want to be more like me then train more often."

"But..."

"No!"

Juliet turned her back on him, slouched in the chair and scowling.

There was a bitter silence.

Butler sighed, rubbing a hand over his head, his version of running his hand through his hair. "So, are we carrying on with this or what?"

"Or what." Juliet said stubbornly, jumping down off the chair and running out the door before he could catch her.

"Juliet! Half and hour and that stuff's got to come off your hair so..."

BANG.

"Don't slam doors." He muttered out of habit.

Grumbling about the stupidity of the invention of small insects that liked to infest 10-year-old's hair, Butler put the nit-removal kit back on the top shelf of the bathroom and went to do the daily checks of the night-security measures before his uncle could start nagging at him.

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Juliet stormed to her room and slammed the door. Both her male relatives would yell at her for that but she didn't care. She flopped on the bed fuming silently.

_Who wanted to have hair anyway? _

_Stupid nits._

_Stupid hair._

_Stupid stupidly brother who offered to de-louse your head and stupid self who accepted._

_Stupid brother for not letting you shave your head._

_It's my head anyway, stupid._

Her 'stupid' rant went on until she was attacked by a bout of the itchies and had to concentrate on scrubbing her scalp until it went away.

Right. If Dom wasn't going to shave her head, she'd do it herself.

Exiting her room and closing the door (quietly this time) she leant over the banister. Her brother was a floor below in the hallway, fiddling with what she guessed was one of the motion detectors. Good. That got rid of him for now. She trotted over to his room and tried the handle. It was locked. _Drat._

She'd try the other bathroom. Returning to the scene of half-an-hour of previous head scraping, she opened the cabinet. No hair-shavers of any sort. There was a razor for beard-removal but nothing that would get rid of her own thick locks. She shut the mirrored door with a bang, instantly regretting this move as the box on top of the wall-cupboard tumbled towards her. Luckily her sharpened reaction times allowed her to catch it before it hit the floor with an almighty crash that would have certainly brought her bat-eared brother running. Muttering she tried to reach up to put it back. No luck, she was yet to get the infamous Butler growth spurt and there was no way she was reaching that high without help. Dragging the chair over, she shoved the box back up, tipping it slightly as she did. Something hit the sink and bounced off onto the bathmat. Deciding it would be easier to throw the item back than bring the box down again, she jumped off the chair and retrieved it, lip curling in disgust as she realised what it was. But, just as she went to aim the throw, her head itched horribly and she scratched the spot with the nearest implement, which was, incidentally, the nit-comb in her hand.

_Aah._ Instant relief.

She scrubbed at her lotion damp hair until it hurt.

_Scrape._

"Ow."

_Scrape._

"Owch."

_Scrape._

"_Ow_ch."

_Scrape._

Sensing a distinct feeling of déjà-vu she pulled the comb away, only to find it was thoroughly ensnared in her hair.

"Oh for..." she tugged at it. It was very stuck. She'd have to cut it out. Suddenly remembering craft scissors and wondering why she hadn't thought of them earlier she threw a towel over her head and ran to her room.

"Juliet?" a quiet voice asked. _Oh heck_. "May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

She flipped the towel up slightly to see Artemis standing their, something plasticine-y and model-y in his hands.

"Uh... I just had a shower."

"Then why are you not damp?"

"I dried myself good."

"I dried myself well, is the correct grammar," Artemis told her.

Juliet waved her hands in dismissal. Unfortunately this allowed the towel to drop from her head.

A moment's quiet.

"Juliet, you appear to have a comb entangled in your hair."

"You don't say." Juliet grumbled.

"Would you like assistance?"

"In the form of scissors? Yes, please."

"I was more inclined to call for assistance from your brother."

"Oh hell no, don't do that, Arty." Juliet groaned, hoping the plastic scissors in her art draw would cut this thing off her head.

As usual, Artemis seemed to read her mind. "I have paper cutting scissors in my room," he offered.

"Metal ones?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes."

"That would be great," she smiled, not stopping to wonder why an six-year-old would be allowed real scissors. He was a genius after all.

Artemis led the way and rummaged around for them in a draw. He didn't have to rummage long. Everything was organised, Juliet noted, unlike her own chest of drawers.

"Will these be sufficient?"

"Yes thanks, Arty."

She took them gratefully and began hacking away.

"Um... Juliet?" Artemis coughed nervously. "Don't you think it would be more sensible to use a mirror? Or even better, summon a hair-dresser?"

"Nah. I want rid of it all anyway."

"Does Butler approve?"

Juliet raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

Artemis smirked slightly.

"Exactly. Does he hell as like, but it's my hair."

"Yes, but Juliet..." Artemis began. Too late, a big chunk of her hair, along with the comb fell to the floor.

Juliet smiled. "There, that's better."

"I assume you mean that it feels better, because I regret to inform you it looks rather... odd." Artemis said apprehensively.

"What?"

Artemis pointed to the mirrored door of his wardrobe. Juliet's gaze followed his finger and she groaned.

"Do you think he'll notice?"

Knowing exactly the _he_ she meant, Artemis answered truthfully. "I have yet to achieve anything that your brother _hasn't _noticed."

"Oh figs."

"My thoughts exactly... or at least a synonym of my thoughts. I didn't actually mentally voice the words you just..."

"Oh shut up Arty and help me do something about this!" Juliet pointed at the sprout of hair sticking from her scalp. She picked up the scissors, holding them tentatively. "Shorter?"

"I think that will make it worse."

"Well I can't make it any longer now!"

"Obviously not."

"Should I do the other side the same to even it out?" She poised the scissors.

"No!" Artemis grabbed her hand. "Don't do that - you'll only make it worse than it already is!"

"Then what am I supposed to do with it?"

Artemis thought for a second. "Have you a hair clip or something to hold it down?"

"Yes, but I never wear them - he'll notice that."

"I'm afraid it's your best option."

A knock came at the door. "Artemis?"

"Hide!" Artemis hissed, shoving Juliet towards the wardrobe. "Just a second," he called to the person on the other side of the door, pulling the large rug over the hair on the floor with all the strength in his skinny arms and sitting down at the desk as though completing his atom-model.

Butler duly waited five seconds before entering. "Artemis, dinner is served in a few minuets."

"Ah yes."

"The Major made it so I'm not sure what it is. It smells like lasagne."

"Excellent," Artemis said a little hurriedly.

Butler frowned, "Are you alright, Artemis?"

In the wardrobe, Juliet froze.

"Yes, perfectly, I just want to finish this model before washing up. I'll meet you downstairs." Artemis said, calm etched into his voice, not turning to face his bodyguard in case he could see the lie in his charge's eyes.

"Alright," Butler shrugged, going to close the door. He paused. "Oh and you haven't seen Juliet have you?"

"Ah... not since... this morning in the kitchen I think," Artemis said, a little too quickly despite the pause for the excuse creating.

"Alright," Butler repeated. "I'll see you downstairs.

The door closed but Juliet waited until she heard her brother go downstairs before she cautiously emerged.

"What are you going to do?" Artemis asked.

"I suppose I'll have to go with the hair-clip idea," Juliet groaned.

"Best be quick, he's suspicious enough as it is," Artemis agreed. "I'll go downstairs and you follow after a few minuets to make it seem as though we haven't been conspiring against your brother."

Juliet grinned. "It's hardly conspiring. Thanks, though, Arty."

She crept out of his room and ran to get something to pin down the sprout of hair. Artemis shook his head slowly. Juliet could be a trifle daft at times, but he was glad to call her a friend. Or at the very least, an acquaintance.

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Ten minuets later and the atmosphere was tense at the dining room table.

"Oh that's a lovely hair-piece you have their Juliet, dear." Angeline smiled.

"Thank-you, m'am." Juliet said politely, actually wanting to strangle the woman for pointing it out. Her brother had already noticed and was frowning to himself in the corner. Juliet kept her head down.

After dinner, which was a lasagne as Butler had guessed, and a pudding of profiteroles with whipped cream, Juliet tried to scarper.

"Juliet? Where do you think you are going?" The Major stopped her.

"Um... Upstairs to finish my homework?"

"Was that a question or a statement?" He turned her round by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shove towards the kitchen. "It can wait until you've helped your brother with the dishes."

Juliet groaned but there was nothing she could do but comply. She took the stack of dished and dragged her feet into the kitchen.

"Uncle says I have to dry up," she muttered.

"And did he say anything about your hair?" Butler asked, amused.

"No."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"And you voluntarily wore that hideous butterfly thing Aunt Mabel sent you, of your own accord, did you?"

"Yes." Juliet folded her arms. "I've decided I like it."

"Really." Butler drew out the 'e' of the word, raising his eyebrows. "I know I look it but I'm not that daft."

Juliet muttered something about being surprised and Butler flicked soap suds at her.

"Come on. What did you really do?"

"Nothing!"

"Juliet." Butler frowned.

"Honestly I haven't done anything stop nagging me!"

"Alright," Butler shrugged. "But you know I know."

Juliet yanked the tea-towel off the side. A glass fell and she lunged for it, slipping on the wet patch made by the suds. Butler's hand flashed out and he caught her elbow before she hit the floor. The glass smashed and his other hand landed straight on the mess of shards as he steadied them both.

He swore, lifting it to find a pattern of blood spreading over his palm. "Oh for..." he swore again.

The Major, drawn by the smashing and swearing, burst into the room.

"What's going on?"

Butler showed him his hand. "Dropped a glass."

"He means_ I_ dropped a glass," Juliet covered.

"I put my hand on it," Butler gave Juliet the look that meant _'Shut up I'll deal with it' _but she ignored him.

"It was my fault."

"I don't care whose fault it is just get it cleaned up!" he snapped. "And stop swearing about a graze, man. It's not as though you haven't had worse."

He left muttering, presumably about their lack of common sense.

"Sorry," Juliet said quietly as Butler ran his hand under the tap.

"It's just a scratch," Butler shrugged and showed her the small-scale laceration the glass had imprinted on his palm.

"No not that," Juliet assured him, inspecting the wound. It'd hardly even be worth a stitch. "That's nothing you big wuss."

Butler rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to expect sympathy.

"I'm sorry I lied to you."

Butler shrugged again. "It's alright. I'm not mad as long as you tell me the truth now."

"I got the nit-comb stuck in my hair so I cut it out."

Butler sniggered.

"Shut up! It isn't funny!"

"Come here you numpty," he shook his hands dry and pulled her head towards him, unclipping the sparkly butterfly and dropping it on the side. The sprout of hair sprung upwards as though celebrating its freedom. He snorted. "Well it could have been worse."

Juliet groaned. "Is it that obvious?"

"Uh, yeah. Only - a lot."

She smacked his arm. "Oh shut up you big egg."

Butler ruffled her hair. "Whatever little spoon."

"Why am I a little spoon?"

"Because you hit eggs with spoons to crack them open and you're little," Butler told her. "And also, you are a first class nugget, also referred to, as a spoon."

"Oh shut up."

"I got blood in your hair," he noted. "You'd better go wash it out. Oh and how long has that nit-stuff been on for?"

"Uh... A long time?" Juliet winced.

"Well you may just get your wish if it makes all your hair fall out," her big brother laughed at her. "But other than that those nits will be well and truly gone."

Juliet smiled. That was a Win-Win situation in her eyes.

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**For Beck, technically. You gave me the idea anyway.**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	4. Ball Boy

_**Ball Boy**_

**I wasn't gonna start dedicating stories to people all the time. That's a special occasion thing. **

**So I haven't done really. Just credited you for the flint that helped make the spark.**

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* * *

**

Domovoi Butler watched as his chubby classmates puffed and panted their three lap warm up of the sports hall. He'd finished his and lapped everyone at least once. Some of them twice.

"Hey Butler. You finished?"

"Yes, sir."

The P.E teacher, if he could be called that, scratched his overly-large belly and grunted with scepticism. "In that case do another two."

Domovoi rolled his eyes. Like that was punishment. Madame Ko would have him do another twenty and that wouldn't even be the end of the warm up. He set off at his usual pace, easily catching up with the ones lagging at the back. He scowled in disgust at their open-mouthed gasping. They'd barely done 400 metres. He caught up with the competitive idiot, James Donnachie, that had tried to keep up with him for the first two laps and ran himself almost to a standstill. The boy sprinted to finish. Domovoi let him. He could have sprinted the whole three laps and still not gotten out of breath. Passing the teacher, he noted with annoyance that the James was getting congratulations. He lapped the last ten of his class for the fifth time and stopped near the back of the group.

The second PE teacher jogged over. The exact opposite to Mr. Gantley, the teacher Domovoi was stuck with, Mr. Heighton was young, healthy and outgoing.

"Running at the back, Butler?" he asked. "That's not like you."

"Three laps isn't enough of a warm up," Domovoi answered truthfully.

Heighton shrugged, turning to the rest of the class."Hey lads, we were thinking of football today. Fancy a game?"

There was a chorus of cheers and groans. Domovoi stayed silent. Football didn't interest him much. But then again, neither did anything else he did during his six-months away from the academy. At least if he played goal-keeper he could practice some sort of shot-stopping, although rugby was better for honing his take-down skills.

He'd only been going to Madame Ko's a little over 2 years but he was already hooked. Counting down the days till he went back was the most interesting thing that happened in the 'holidays'. If you could call them that. Domovoi went to ordinary high-school for most of his months away from the academy in an effort to help his mental education keep up with the physical one. All it was doing was gaining him a reputation as the weirdo who was only there sometimes and was too good at sport for most people's liking.

"Certainly, Heighton," Gantley had a habit of only calling people by their last names. It suited Butler fine but was a source of confusion for the Foster brothers. "James and... Harry you can be team captains I think..."

Gantley waffled on to himself but no one was listening, all too busy trying to make sure they weren't picked last. A difficult task for the ones still bent double and breathing as though they smoked 40 a day.

Domovoi stood bored at the back. He towered over the rest of them in a surprisingly un-lanky fashion, unlike Gary Fleckton who was almost his height and three times as skinny. Domovoi didn't care when he got picked. Two weeks and he was out of here again anyway, away from the meaningless games and tedious company.

He was still one of the first picked. Not because he was popular, but because he had never let a goal in yet and had accidently broken someone's leg last year when he slide tackled them. That had cost him a week of exclusion from school and had gained him a reputation as the one no-one wanted to be on the opposite team as, after that.

The game was not an exceptional one. Gantley shouted himself purple in the face, quite literally, but not one shot got past Domovoi, who caught or stopped each one with infuriating ease. Footballs were a lot smaller than the paintballs he was used to blocking. The last five minuets of the match and James was charging up the wing. Domovoi checked for accomplices in this assault on his goal but to be honest the other thirteen-year-old was a ball-hogger and a glory-boy and the chances of him passing were less than the chances of him scoring.

Domovoi watched him run, mind already suggesting possible paths the missile could fly in ways that would make him one of the best of bodyguards in the future. In the end it stayed on the floor till the last minuet and he was delighted to get the chance to slide in and terrify James's ankles. Instead of skin and bone his trainer hit the ball as intended and it ricocheted upwards, smacking the unfortunate boy in the face and carrying on it's upward soar, crashing through the ancient sports hall's roof-protecting wooden slats. Several crashed to the floor with the dramatic effect of much dust and screaming. The ball did not drop down along with the spears.

_Oh heck_, Dom thought. Or words to that effect.

Ball well and truly lost, half the class jeered insults whilst the others muttered in relief. James lay on the floor bawling about his nose. Domovoi picked himself up and dusted off the friction burn on his elbow. He considered his downed opponent as he would an attempted murderer.

_The verdict?_ asked his inner-Madame Ko.

_Enemy defeated, _he shrugged. But he checked twice anyway. You could never be too safe. The boy was wallowing in a mix of tears and nosebleed.

As Mr. Heighton called the game to an end and sent the others to get changed Domovoi followed suit, leaving Gantley to deal with the blubbering James.

* * *

At lunch there was a distinct feeling of unease. Everyone wanted the ball back. The problem was how to get it. Normally the punishment for putting the ball wherever it was would be severe teasing of the pupil responsible followed by a forced retrieval by the same person. Although none of the other students had any idea how they'd get their precious ball down from the roofing, and none of them were about to start attempting to bully Domovoi.

Except, perhaps, James Donnachie. Complete with swollen nose he swaggered up to where Domovoi was sat against a wall eating. The boy spat at his feet. Domovoi barely raised an eyebrow. His idea of playing dirty was entirely different to a normal teenagers.

"Oi baldy."

Domovoi scowled. Although his new hairdo wasn't the best it meant that he was immune from the 'hilarious' game that involved chewing-gum and most people's heads. He ignored him.

"You listening to me?"

"Nope," the young Butler said honestly.

"Well you should be."

"Go on. Why's that?" he asked, getting to his feet slowly, careful not to leave himself open to an attack.

James faltered slightly, but, backed up by his mates, carried on. "'Cause... 'cause you're going to get our ball back."

"Really?" Domovoi mused, repeating his question. "And why's that?"

Unprepared for the question James drew himself up to his full height, still less than the taller boy's shoulder and tried to think of an answer. "'Cause... 'cause if you don't I'll tell everyone the reason you turned down Lisa Snideson is 'cause you're gay."

Domovoi rolled his eyes. Like he hadn't heard that one before. The orange-faced girl with custard-coloured hair had simpered over him for a week until he told her he really wasn't interested. Of course that had sparked rumours. The truth? What was the point in a girlfriend when you buggered off to random places all over the world for half the year? He didn't need another stress in his life.

"You already did that, James," he shrugged. "I'm not arsed what you think of me."

Not giving up on getting the ball back and knowing that his enemy was the only one capable of doing so, James pulled his ace in the hole.

"Well you just...you won't get it 'cause...'cause you can't."

Butler knew he was being baited but he still perked up his ears in interest. "Wanna bet on that?"

Technically, that would be James winning him over, but Domovoi wanted to rub the boy's inflamed nose in the fact that he could do pretty much anything he wanted to.

"Go on then," James jeered. Domovoi exhaled air loudly through his nose. Ko would kill him for this if she found out he rose to such childish taunting.

"Alright," he shrugged, heading towards the sports hall. By the time they reached to door there was a small crowd following them. Butler didn't care. They'd be a soft landing if he fell.

Walking into the empty sports hall Domovoi planned his attempt. Unhooking a gym rope he tugged on it. The school was ancient and he didn't exactly trust their equipment.

"Get on with it! Or can't you?"

Domovoi didn't answer. He didn't need to. Hoisting himself up hand over hand he reached the top in a few seconds. Now for the tricky part. He tested the width of the slats of wood, already knowing their strength was neither formidable nor reliable.

He decided on a fist jam to get started. He stuck his hand into the gap, clenching his fingers on the other side to form a block that he could hang from for over a minute without much effort. With the crowd watching him hang from below he got a better grip of the wood, hooking his fingers over the edge. The ball was a few meters away he monkey-barred over. Some kids wisely moved away from below him, at least one ran to get a teacher, and possibly a first-aider.

"Go on then... what're you doing hanging around up there you big ape?"

Domovoi resisted the urge to gozz on the idiot below him and swung himself onto a stronger looking beam.

Next job - the ball.

He considered the gap. Hanging again off one arm, he swung the other hand forward and tried to punch the ball. It bobbled another two planks further from the gap he'd made earlier.

_Damn it._ Or words to that effect.

James jeered. Others gasped.

Abandoning that tactic, Domovoi pulled himself up chin-up style. He straightened out his legs, arms shaking with the effort, mind thanking Madame Ko's ridiculous training regimes. He booted the ball which fired up, hit the corrugated iron with a resounding _clang_ and dropped through the gap. He almost slipped completely off as he dropped back, earning a few squeals from the girls. The wood creaked ominously.

_This is a stupid idea_, he realised far too late. If he fell now, something was going to break. And a fortnight before going back to the academy, that was not something he should be risking.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

_Oh crap._

Misters Heighton and Gantley did _not_ look happy.

"Get down immediately!" Gantley roared.

"With respect sir, that would be a bit thick," Domovoi said cheerfully from above.

"Go get one of the gymnastics mattresses," Heighton ordered someone.

"I'm not stuck sir, just a bit... inconvenienced. I'll work it out in a min," Dom assured him.

Heighton still sent a few students scurrying. Butler swung across to another beam and a piece of wood snapped off, scattering those below.

"Be careful!"

"That's the idea," Butler muttered. The window had a small ledge he could possibly balance on... if he could reach it, that was.

By the time the mattress arrived he was perched safely on the tiny outcrop. Deciding that today was not the day to try out the back flip he'd been practicing, he inched his way down, hanging by his fingertips before dropping.

_Stupid,_ he berated himself as a scratch of pain drew a line down his six-pack.

He hadn't checked the wall was safe to slide down and a nasty sticking out nail ripped his school shirt to shreds and part of his skin as well.

"Oh fu...uh gods sake," he muttered landing with bent knees and changing the curse to something a lot milder.

A hand grasped his shoulder and he automatically grabbed the wrist and twisted the guy onto his face. Luckily he landed on the mattress.

"Oh. Sorry about that, Mr. Gantley," Domovoi hoisted the portly man to his feet with little effort.

"What the hell were you playing at?"

"Sorry sir, reflexes." Domovoi said, a little too cheekily for his teacher's liking.

"I expect a written apology about that assault,"(Domovoi barely held back a snort of amusement at that. _Assault_ indeed. He'd give him an assault.) "I'm serious. Or I'll take it further," the man huffed. "And besides that, you could have been killed!"

"Unlikely, sir." he muttered nonchalantly.

"You could have..."

"Broken a leg? Maybe. But I didn't," he shrugged, walking through the crowd. Mr. Heighton pointed at his shirt as he passed.

"You might want to get that cleaned up," he said, concerned.

"Am I going to get excluded again, sir?" Domovoi paused.

"Most likely, Dom," the teacher sighed. He liked the Butler boy, but he was a bit insane.

"For more than two weeks?" the strange young boy that was to become one of the most dangerous men on earth, asked interestedly.

"Most likely," he repeated, sighing again.

"Then I won't bother with a new shirt then, sir." Domovoi shrugged.

And, ignoring the exclamations of the crowd about his torn chest, and considerable muscles showing through the hole in his shirt, walked out of the school without a backwards glance.

* * *

**Here you go. Guess this is sorta for Steinbock. Yeah he's not ten, but I had to bump the ages up a bit to make it make more sense.**

**I think he's a bit too cocky in places, but ain't all teenagers?**

**Go on, give me an idea, a piece of flint, and if I like the sound of it, I might write it into this crazy patchwork of a comfort blanket.**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	5. Not An Ice Time

_**Not An Ice Time**_

**^Read that aloud^ - it'll give you some idea of what this is about.**

**A Christmassy one-shot. Butler style.**

**Well this might be the last of the Little Remedies for this year coz I'm gonna start posting my next big chaptered fic ASAP. **

**Here goes, Merry Christmas.**

* * *

"Oh the weather outside is frightful..." Juliet sang, raucously as ever, along to the radio. "But the fire is so delightful... Come on, you know you want to!" She hit her brother on the arm. "And since we've no place to go..."

"Let it Snow, let it snow, let it snow," Butler muttered quietly, stepping back to inspect the decorations.

"Oh come on you can sing louder than that!" she laughed, leaping off the stepladder.

"_Can_ and _will _are entirely different things, Jules," he told her, critiquing the angle of the tinsel with his head to one side. "That look straight to you?"

"Yeah," she said unconvincingly. "But you, on the other hand, look like one of those camp house makeover guys."

"Oh shut up," Butler grumbled, swatting at her with rolled up Christmas sign.

"You do! 'Specially in that shirt," Juliet laughed, tugging on the Christmassy patterned material the lady of the house had replaced all her employees uniforms with for the whole of December. Colour co-ordinated too - a different colour for each section of work.

"You know what Mrs. Fowl gets like, she's more hyped up about Christmas than Artemis," Butler shrugged, only glad he wasn't one of the chefs. The array of purple gave him a headache every time he went in the kitchen.

"Well that's not hard. The only thing Artemis is bothered about this year is whether he gets the stuff he wanted. He was measuring how deep the snow was the other day and he wouldn't even have a snowball fight with me."

"Well you did go a bit OTT last time," Butler pointed out.

"Maybe, but he asked for it," Juliet retorted hotly.

"Hmm," Butler packed away the few spare baubles. "Did he now?"

"Well not exactly worded, but you know..." Juliet admitted. "Anyway, speaking of snowball fights!"

"Nope. Didn't spot the distinct change of subject there..."

Juliet carried on regardless. "Me and a few others from school were thinking of having a snow-war in the park this afternoon. Can I?"

Butler cocked an eyebrow. "A snow-war?"

"Yeah it's gonna be so cool with igloos and trenches and loads of snowballs and stuff!" she beamed.

"Who with?"

"My mates from school - it's gonna be great!" she said excitedly. "So can I go? Pleeeeeaaaase?"

Butler sighed. He was trained to resist torture of most forms and was even well-schooled in the mental methods of resisting truth drugs, but when his little sister pulled those puppy-dog eyes. Dammit.

"Alright," he said grudgingly. "But only if you're careful."

"I will be!" she jumped up and hugged him. "Thanks Dom."

"What have I told you about that word," he scowled.

"Sorry," she smiled. "I loves ya, bro."

"Ah yes. When you want something," her brother teased.

"Well I was going to ask Uncle but I thought..."

"I'd be the soft one that said yes - hmm?"

"Thought you'd be the amazing, brilliantly super one you mean!"

"Try telling him that," Butler shook his head at his excitable sibling. "Don't go on the lake though - the ice isn't thick enough for skating yet."

"OK!" Juliet bounced around.

"And if you don't help me with the last of these now they won't be done in time for you to go out."

"OK!" Juliet yelped, snatching the box and decorating like a mad-thing.

"And I'm serious about the ice thing - I don't want to spend the afternoon in the hospital because you've caught pneumonia..."

"I said OK you big worryguts!" Juliet laughed, poking him with a plastic icicle.

"I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to worry about you," he defended.

"Aww - that's sweet."

"And beat you up for taking the rip out of me..." he lunged and caught her round the arms, spinning her until they were both completely dizzy and couldn't even stand straight. Probably not the best of ideas.

The rest of the decorations ended up decidedly wonky.

* * *

After lunch Juliet grabbed her flask of hot chocolate and raced to the back door.

"Come on - or I'm I gonna catch a bus?"

"Alright I told you I'd give you a lift didn't I?" her brother grumbled, grabbing a jacket and checking he had his gun as casually as others would check for their mobile.

"Paranoid much?" Juliet rolled her eyes.

"Prepared."

"Yeah, yeah now come on I'll be late!"

Butler shook his head and followed her. Their uncle was happy to hold down the manor for half and hour or so. Well,_ happy_ was probably not the word. Grudgingly accepting, on the terms that Butler would do his uncle's half of the security checks on top of his own. A good call by the younger, the elder would never sleep without checking everything twice himself anyway.

They took one of the spare cars, partly because Juliet didn't want to turn up like the Queen of Sheba, and partly because Butler really didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning slush off the Bentleys wheel rims.

They pulled into the carpark, hampered by a good few centimetres of fluffy white snow. Perfect for snowballing.

The Butler siblings went to get out of the car. Both paused, hands on their door-handles.

"Um... bro? You don't have to walk me the rest of the way there..."

Butler frowned. "You sure?"

"Yes, Dom. Stop worrying."

Butler sighed. She was twelve. No self-respecting twelve-year-old got walked with their brother to the park. Especially not from a couple of hundred meters away.

"OK?" she asked, spotting some friends and waving.

"Go on then," he smiled. She got out, slamming the door with her usual gentleness - ie, none. Butler started the engine and went to pull away when there was a knock at his window. Juliet pressed her face against the glass in a pig-impression. He pressed the button cautiously.

"Yes?"

"You forgot your hug," she said, reaching into the car to grab him round the neck. Any other brother of any other sister might have let her but Butler knew her better than that, and grabbed her gloved hand as she reached behind his back.

"And you forgot to let go of your snowball before you gave me it," he answered, saving half the block of compressed flakes from disappearing down his top and throwing them after her.

She laughed and picked up more to throw back but he shot the window up and waved from behind it.

"Have a good time," he mouthed, glad he had taught her the art of lip-reading.

"I will - I'll text you," she mimed back.

She watched him drive off, barely a wheel-spin, even in the ice.

"Hey Jules is that your dad?" her friend asked.

"Brother," she corrected.

"He is buff - how old is he?"

"Eww Ellie! He's old!"

"Twenties?"

"Thirties!"

"No way!"

"Oh shut up - you're giving me the heebie-geebies thinking about you drooling over _my _brother..."

"I wasn't drooling. No harm in looking!"

"You don't know my brother. With him, there could be..." Juliet was spared further explanation by a snowball hitting her in the face.

"Are you playing or not?"

Wiping snow out of her eyes, Juliet narrowed them at the thrower . He started backing away. Good idea, but too late. She'd flown after him like a harpy and tackled him to the ground in one of her favourite wrestling moves.

* * *

Three hours later and they were hardly tiring. If it wasn't for the fading light and the risk of hypothermia if they paused for more than a minuet, the games would have gone on all night.

One by one, parents were called for lifts, until only Juliet, Ellie and Jack (the boy who had thrown the first snowball) remained.

"Right that's it. My Mum'll freak if I'm any longer," Jack panted, flopping down next to a tree and getting out his phone.

"Me too," Ellie agreed, pulling a brand new phone from her pocket. Shiny, touch screen, finished with a diamante protective case.

"Wowza E! Early Christmas present?" Juliet asked, awe-struck.

"Yeah, well Dad said there wasn't much point in waiting since I already knew I was getting it."

"You're so lucky!" Jack said grudgingly, hitting the buttons on his own much brickier mobile.

Juliet wasn't concentrating. As she sent her own message, she'd spotted moving shadows in the trees. Moving shadows were never good. Her brother and uncle's teaching shot to the front of her mind. _Get away and get something between you and them_.

"Um guys? I think someone's watching us..."

"Don't be daft Jules - you worry too much!"

Juliet suddenly knew what her brother felt when she brushed off his paranoia... precautions.

"I just think we should move away from..."

"Way-hay what's this then?" A loud, older teen jumped forward, grabbing at Ellie's new phone. She squealed but was helpless to stop the device being whipped from her grasp.

"Give it back," Juliet said firmly. "Now."

"What you going to do about it?" Another one appeared from the tree-line. And another. Three sixteen-year-old boys. Juliet was pretty sure she could get rid of the fat one soon enough, but the other two as well...

"Just give it back," Juliet bent her knees for combat.

"Hmm? Go on then," the tallest skinniest one dangled the phone just out of reach. _One day I'll be tall,_ Juliet fumed.

Nevertheless she leapt for it and the guy panicked, chucking it to his mate. Jack flung himself at the other boy and held on long enough for the older teen to rethink keeping hold of the phone. The last boy, the overweight one Juliet had clocked earlier, caught the phone clumsily and started running. That was where the real trouble started.

* * *

Butler drove carefully, as always, trying to ignore the fact he hadn't had a confirming text from his sister. _She's probably busy with her friends_, he told himself. But he'd learnt to listen to that voice of nagging doubt in his mind. Something was happening. Not the good kind of something either.

* * *

The boy started running once he saw Juliet staring at him with a similar expression to a tiger with a warthog.

He pounded forward through the snow, vaulting a fence and carrying on. Juliet followed like lighting. The ground felt harder here and slippier. Each footstep echoed and Juliet realised with a jolt what had happened. In the chase she'd jumped the fence protecting the pond. She was on ice. She skidded to a halt.

"What's up little girl? Can't keep up?" wheezed fat-boy.

Juliet would have replied with one of her prepared come-backs for 'little-girl' comments but now was not the time. She backed away slowly, worried that even the tiniest of steps would drop her into the freezing water. She shuddered at the carelessness she had pounded across the frozen lake just seconds ago.

"Shut up you idiot - just get off the ice!" she yelled, backing away faster.

A noise like a gunshot shattered the snow-muffled silence. The older teen was right near the middle now, oblivious to the danger until that moment. He stopped, realisation dawning. Too late.

_Ga-lumph!_

The bully dropped like a coin through a slot.

Juliet was right near the shore. He was in the middle, spluttering and screaming. His mates looked at each other - all laughter vanishing from their face. Jack and Ellie looked like ghosts. Juliet grabbed hold of the railings. She was safe. She should just get off and ring someone to help. But living with a family of soldiers had taught her more than enough about survival and that lad wasn't going to be alive by the time help arrived. Not even with his generous layer of blubber.

"Shit! Swim or summit!"

Juliet rolled her eyes. These guys were dumb.

She let go of the rail. If the ice didn't get her first, Dom was going to _kill _her.

* * *

Butler pulled up in the carpark. He paused a second, sharp hearing picking out shouts above the heaters. He smiled. Probably Juliet doing some serious beating. The smile faded. The pitch was wrong for playful laughter. He opened the door and a final shout wiped any trace of joy from his face. He set off at a run towards the lake.

* * *

As she got closer, Juliet dropped to her stomach and slid slowly forwards. She unfurled her scarf, shivering at the snow that pooled in her collar.

"Here. Grab this," she slung it towards the frightened teen. He clasped it in a hammy hand, eyes wide.

Juliet suddenly realised she didn't have much of an idea what to do next. What did happen next was definitely not part of the plan.

"Jules! Grab onto mine!" Ellie threw her scarf too.

"No! Ell, get back to the..."

CRACK!

The ice split again and Ellie vanished for a second, resurfacing screaming.

_Never panic_. Not ever.

That was a key teaching. So Juliet didn't panic - but she was close.

Screaming people, two in the ice, three off it.

_Where are you, Dom? I need you,_ Juliet thought frantically.

* * *

Butler was not very far away, he rounded the corner just as Ellie fell through. He took in the colour of the fuchsia coat and was guiltily relieved it wasn't Juliet. The relief didn't last.

"Hey! Hey mister you gotta help! My friend fell through the ice!" A scrawny teenager yelled.

Butler turned and a smaller boy waved him over.

"Hey you're Jules's brother aren't you? She went to help!" he pointed.

Butler looked and the dread was colder than the ice.

_Oh shit._

Juliet felt herself freezing to the ice. What could she do? This was stupid. The idiot had been in the water for over five minuets and now she had too of them to worry about.

"Ellie! Flatten yourself out and try to drag yourself out like a seal!" she yelled, trying desperately to remember that horrible morning where her family had dragged her out of bed at a stupid time in the morning, stuck her in a wetsuit and made her practice drag-outs from the manor pond. She'd complained at the time, but now she was finally getting the reason for all these lessons.

The fat-boy tried the same technique. "No not you!" Juliet groaned as more ice crumbled away into inky water.

The hole was getting closer to her now._ What next?_

"Juliet!"

In spite of being 15 foot out on a rapidly cracking sheet of ice Juliet felt safer in an instant.

"Bro!"

Butler sprinted round the edge of the lake so that Juliet could see him without moving.

"There's no way I'm coming out there, Jules. I'll just make things worse. You gotta get yourself off. I'll deal with the other two."

"How?"

"I'm working on that." Butler muttered, scanning the snow. A shape stuck out and he scraped the ice away to find a barge-pole device. _Perfect_. Sort of.

However, he was still a good few feet from the kid in the ice, not to mention his sister. Somewhere nearer the shore the girl in the pink coat was weakly struggling to get out. She slipped in further. Face falling in desperation. Butler had seen that look before. She was giving up.

Growling in frustration that Juliet was still trying to help the large boy in the water when she could so easily save herself.

"Stay there. Stop moving so much - you in the water just kick your legs slowly to keep warm." Butler told the boy. _Calm voice. Don't tell him that he's probably going to die if he doesn't get out. Don't tell him he is _definitely_ going to die if he drags your little sister into that water with him._

This thinking took place in the time it took to run round to the other side and get closer to the young girl in the water.

"Hey," he said, just loud enough for her to here. "You alright?"

"N...n...no..." she croaked. "I can't get out."

"Yes you can. Just reach out to this pole."

Ellie tried. She stretched forwards but there was no way she reaching that far. Butler weighed up his options. Literally. One step and that ice was slush. Maybe that would have to be part of the plan. He pulled off his jacket and considered the three teenagers on the bank.

"Steal anything and I will hunt you down."

The older pair nodded frenetically, the younger one, Juliet's friend, just looked scared.

Butler took a look at the ice. He'd rather just get it over with than fall through unintentionally. He stomped a foot through the inch thick stuff easily.

"Hey what are you doing that for?"

Butler spared a moment to give the boy a withering glance. "Do I look like I don't know what I'm doing?"

The boy gaped and said nothing. Butler stomped a path, then waded closer. The water was cold. Not the coldest he'd been in but cold enough. He reached the girl at his-waist height - enough to be up to the girl's neck. He lifted her out of the water, checking on Juliet as he sloshed back to shore.

The thirteen-year-old in his arms was barely conscious. Juliet was doing slightly better. Not the same for the boy left in the water. He was still now, only Juliet's commands keeping him from slipping under.

Placing the soaking teen on the floor he gave instructions for her to be wrapped up in his jacket and was fairly amazed that they'd already had the smart idea to ring an ambulance.

"What now?"

Butler almost rolled his eyes, not bothering to say: "What do you think I'm going to do?"

He headed out back across the ice, dragging himself out and belly-sliding once he deemed it moderately thick enough. It crunched ominously but held. Ahead Juliet was gritting her teeth in determination. She'd been talking to the boy, keeping him conscious. Sirens wailed in the distance.

"Hey bro," she chattered through her teeth.

"Hey sis," he answered. "Shall we get this bloke out the ice?"

"Oh... please... s...sir... I'm... s...sorry... I..."

"Shut up."

"Yes...s...s..."

"I said shut up!" Butler growled at him. He had a distinct feeling that this guy was the reason Juliet was on the ice in the first place and although he couldn't leave him, he _could _make the experience as unpleasant as possible for the boy. The ice fizzled and cracked and Butler found himself back in the water. He padded for the bottom of the lake bouncing a few times off what he suspected was a shopping trolley until deciding just to swim.

Juliet rolled away from him. Wise choice as the holes her brother and the boy were in joined together in a _shuld-dunk _noise_._ Not good. The fat-boy panicked, thrashing about until Butler snatched hold of his hoodie and hauled him backwards.

"Stay still you..." Butler left the adjective to the boy's imagination and pulled him to shore like a tug boat. Juliet watched them go and hoped they'd be quick. The ice hissed angrily. She hardly dare breathe.

Butler shoved the boy close enough to shore to wade himself to dry land and collapse to the snowy ground surrounded by his mates.

"Hey! You in the water! Well done but leave the girl the fire-brigade are on their way."

_Hiss... CRACK... CRACK. CRRRAAACK!_

_To put it politely. Not a chance._ Butler threw himself forward and powered over to his sister. She was submerged in the icy water now, trying to paddle her head above water. Just the way he'd taught her.

"Dom!" she spluttered.

"I've got you," her big brother grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her closer. She clung to him like a limpet.

"Need me to help kick?"

Butler snorted water in amusement. Juliet giggled in a chilly sort of way and paddled her legs anyway as he swam them to safety. Behind the hole was already sealing over with a thin layer of ice.

Reaching the land Butler put Juliet down and shook like a giant dog. "That's a bit nippy, eh?"

"Like Ko didn't have you doing that every day in the academy," Juliet panted.

"Yeah... good old jog and dip," Butler sighed, reminiscing the good old days.

The ambulance pulled up and seemed relieved to find everyone out of the ice.

The paramedics took the two other soaked teenagers into the ambulance and Butler took his jacket back, draping it over Juliet.

"Shall we go?"

"I suggest you stay and get treated for..." a paramedic started.

"We'll be alright honest," Juliet smiled. "My big brother will look after me, won't you, bro?"

Butler squeezed her shoulders through the heavy jacket. "Always."

"Well if you're sure," the man frowned. "I'd really prefer it if you..."

"Trust me, I've done this before," Butler shrugged. "Oh and..." he waved a hand at Ellie's shivering form.

"Ellie," Juliet provided.

"Your phone got a bit wet. You might want to get chubs there to pay for it," Butler handed her the mobile.

Ellie took it, "Oh thank-you... and thank-you for saving my life!"

Butler rolled his eyes. _Melodramatic much?_ "I'm sure you would have survived anyway."

Juliet rolled her eyes too. _Over-modest much?_ "Can we go home now?"

Butler shrugged. "Let's go."

They crunched over to the car. Juliet was still shivering slightly, but for Butler this was a walk in the park. Literally.

"What did I tell you before I let you go?" He asked once they were back in the stationary vehicle, blowers on full blast.

"Something about ice?" Juliet said meekly.

"Something about ice, she says. Something about ice!" Butler muttered. "_Now_ she remembers."

"That was what you meant wasn't it?"

"Yes it was something about the _bloody_ ice!" he yelled.

He breathed deeply and reigned in his temper. Shouting wasn't helping.

Juliet winced. She'd really done it this time. "I'm sorry, Dom. It wasn't on purpose. It sorta just happened..." she whispered.

"Yeah well. These sort of thing sorta just happen a lot around you don't they," he sighed, head-butting the steering wheel.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," he mumbled into the dashboard.

"Honestly?" she asked, surprised.

"No, Juliet. I'm not mad. I know you were only trying to help. It's just..." he knuckled his forehead. "I don't know."

"You would have done it. You_ did_ do it," Juliet picked at some fluff on the jacket she was covered by.

"I know. Just... don't scare me like that again, OK?"

"You were scared?" she looked shocked.

"Of course I was scared you spanner I thought you were going to get hurt!"

"And you'd be bothered by that?"

Butler didn't answer straight away, instead grabbing her in a head-lock of a hug and nuggie-ing her gently. "Course I was."

"Oh come on Dom, it was only a dip in a pond."

"Yeah well, I'm supposed to worry about you - I'm your big brother"

"You're a big softy more like."

She snuggled into his chest, scrunching her face at the rough material. "This shirt really is hideous."

"Hey - at least you don't have to wear it," Butler shrugged. "Now come on. Uncle is going to kill us as it is."

"What're going to tell him?"

"I dunno - you fancied a swim?"

"Idiot," she laughed, buckling her belt.

"You're the idiot," Butler rolled his eyes and pulled out of the carpark.

"We're both idiots."

Needless to say, their uncle agreed.

* * *

**Not entirely one of my best I don't think, but I liked the idea and so there it is.**

**Give us a shout and let us know what you think. **

**Go on. **

**Tis the season to be jolly and all that,**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
O**


	6. How Not To Iron

**Another WBBAF story for Lil' Rems. I was planning on waiting until New Year to start up this again after **_***shameless advertising alert***_** One Painkiller or Two was finished. But hey, Happy Boxing Day.**

_**Big brothers are for... **_

"**Teaching you to do dangerous stuff like fire guns, throw knives, beat up bad guys and how to iron properly."- Juliet Butler, aged seven.**

* * *

Juliet could not iron.

This was not an insult. It was simply a statement. It wasn't that she was a little bit scared of the searing hot piece of metal (although she was a tiny bit, especially since her brother always burnt himself at least once every time he used it. Which was pretty much every other day.).

It wasn't that anyone had banned her from touching it let alone using it like Artemis had been prohibited from being within a meter of the kettle.

It wasn't even that she was nervous of setting fire to, burning a hole through or basically destroying some important piece of clothing.

It was that she had never actually given it a go. So, one early morning while Butler was doing the ironing in the kitchen, she decided to ask him.

"Dom," she asked. Her brother '_hmmm_ed?' at her as he smoothed the creases out of one of Mr Fowl's shirts. "Do you think...?"

"Hmmm?" came the reply again as he moved on to one of his own shirts which were at least three times bigger than the last one he had ironed, possibly four times actually.

"You're not listening are you?" she asked sighing. She was well aware that he always '_hmmm_ed?' to placate her from hitting him for not listening to her when he was concentrating on something and didn't have the heart to tell her to go away and ask him later. She tapped him on the arm, patiently for once.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he said looking up.

"Could you teach me how to iron?"

Butler thought about it. Could he risk the fire hazard his sister would be mixing ironing with chatting or watching TV? It would save him time once she could be trusted with it. He thought about it. He didn't want her to burn herself like he himself always managed to do. _Actually..._ Butler was just congratulating himself on the fact that he hadn't burnt himself yet when he successfully ironed over his hand for the third time that week.

Refraining from swearing loudly he lifted the iron off the back of his hand, slammed it down vertically on the ironing board and ran his hand under the cold tap of the kitchen sink behind him.

"Did I make you do that?" Juliet said miserably.

"Did you make me lose concentration, forget what I was doing and run my hand over with an iron?" asked Butler rhetorically. "Yes you did."

"Oh."

"Did you pick up the hand holding the iron and run my other hand over with it?" he said turning round and drying his hands on a clean tea towel. "No you didn't. Therefore you didn't make me do it and so it's not your fault."

"Good." Juliet said standing on a kitchen chair and hugging him around the middle. Her arms barely made it halfway.

"I would have burnt myself sooner or later anyway. It is completely impossible for me not to."

"Like a tradition?" Juliet giggled.

"A painful one, yes, I suppose," he said patting her on the back somewhat awkwardly and lifting her down from the chair. "Now if you're sure you want to learn how to professionally burn yourself everyday then yes I will teach you to iron."

"Now?"

"Tomorrow. That's when the bath towels and stuff will need doing and they're an easy thing to start with."

"OK." she said smiling and jumping down off the chair. Butler smiled too as he watched her skip upstairs.

He wouldn't have done if he had known what he was letting himself in for.

* * *

_The Next Day_

"Dom... Psssst. Dom? Dom... pssssst!" Juliet hissed in her brother's ear the next morning.

Butler shot bolt upright, almost head-butting her in the face as he sat up, gun drawn.

_How the hell did someone get right by my bed without me waking up?_

The figure illuminated by the hallway light explained this issue.

"J_uuu_les!" he grumbled, recognising his sister's silhouette and checking his alarm clock. It was forty-five minuets until it was due to go off. "Bugger off will you? I'm trying to sleep!"

"You said you would teach me how to iron," she said brightly sitting down and bouncing on the edge of his bed.

"Yes," he admitted. "But I didn't say I'd teach you to iron an hour before sunrise," he added, lying back down.

"You said _today_," Juliet persisted tugging at his pillow.

"It doesn't count as today until the sun's up," he tried. It didn't work.

"It counts at midnight," she said, grabbing his duvet and trying to pull it off him. It was like trying to pull a quilt off a polar-bear. "Now get up or do I need to get a jug of water like Mum used to?"

"Go and get one then," Butler mumbled from under the covers, calling her bluff.

"Fine then! I will!" she started towards the door.

"All right! All right! OK! I'm up!" he groaned, giving in - like all big things will eventually do to all smaller things.

* * *

The lesson went well to begin with. Juliet managed to do three face cloths without burning anything, including her brother. Next she did a massive bath towel, then Mr Fowl's bathrobe. Finally Butler trusted her with one of her own T-shirts that she herself had bought him for Christmas in an effort to make him more '_cool'_.

It was camouflage patterned and would have been an acceptable garment if it didn't have the print on it.

Still, it was a valuable tool in showing her how to iron it inside out so as not to reduce the big yellow smiley face, the glitter encrusted gun and the caption "Trigger Happy" to a sticky, gluey, glittery mess on the iron plate.

All was going perfectly.

And then the phone rang.

"I'll get it." Butler said automatically. "Just do that last towel while I answer this and then I'll teach you how to do the other stuff, OK?"

"Okely-dokely bro!" Juliet said, biting her tongue between her teeth in concentration.

He left for the phone. Conflicting thoughts arguing in his head.

_You can trust her._

_This is Juliet we're talking about, here._

_She'll be fine._

_Hmm._

She swept the iron across the towel, smoothing it out before folding it neatly and placing it reverently on the ironing pile. Overall it took her about thirty seconds to do it perfectly. She waited for a moment. She drummed her fingers on the ironing board simultaneously wobbling a loose tooth with a finger on her other hand. After a while she emptied the glass they had used to refill the iron by watering the nearest vase of (dried ooppss...) flowers and pressed her ear to it against the wood of the door, trying to earwig on her brother's conversation.

"... bonnet and roof... silver... repainted..."

Juliet sighed. From the snippets she had caught it was the garage man that was supposed to be coming round to repaint one of the vintage Bentleys, an important job that Juliet found as boring as it was expensive.

Who looked at the roof of a car anyway? Except for ridiculously tall people like her brother... and Uncle... and erm... the rest of her family. But who cares? It's a car! The birds will still poop on it whether it's been repainted or not.

The young Butler crossed the room and stood bouncing on the balls of her feet by the ironing board. It was sooo boring just waiting and her brother would be really pleased if he came back from his incredibly dull phone call to see that she had finished the whole of the rest of the ironing basket.

Right. First up one of her brother's shirts. Or was it her uncles? It didn't matter, she was going to conquer it.

"Take that you evil creases!" she said attacking the circus-tent-like shirt with the iron. After a while of smoothing and re-smoothing it at least seven times she still couldn't understand why it didn't seem to be working. Every time she flattened one crease another would appear.

Perhaps she should press harder? No that was making it worse. Leave the iron in one place for longer? Yes, that would do it. She positioned the iron on the biggest crease with a harder-than-necessary slam which caused the empty refill glass to shatter to the floor.

"Oh pants," she muttered bending down to clear up the mess before her brother noticed.

* * *

Butler sniffed. That was weird. He thought he could smell...

"So that's the bonnet and roof re-painted of the silver vintage Bentley is that right?" the garage-man asked "Hello? Hello? Are you still there?..."

Butler didn't answer. He had already dropped the receiver and was racing across the hall towards the kitchen door...

* * *

Juliet went to fetch the dustpan and brush from the utility room. After some rooting about she found it. Straightening up she sniffed. That was weird. She thought she could smell...

The mop clattered to the floor. Juliet didn't pick it up. She had already dropped the dustpan and brush and was racing across the room towards the kitchen door...

* * *

The siblings reached the kitchen at the same time to see the ironing board ablaze. Juliet stood there stunned but her brother had had too much training to just stand there with his mouth open in shock.

He grabbed the washing up bowl, ready to tip it over the mini inferno when he remembered that it was an electrical fire. Juliet ran for the fire extinguishers as he landed the bowel on the side and grabbed a wooden rolling pin from the drawer, using it to whack the plug from the socket. It sparked angrily at him but he ignored it, throwing the soapy water over the flames.

They were reduced to a hissing smouldering heap of soggy ashes.

Juliet burst back into the room with an exploding fire extinguisher clearing her path and the kitchen surfaces of any appliances. It didn't, however, clear her path of her brother though, who got covered in the foam.

"Better late than never?" she mumbled shamefacedly. Her brother blew foam from his mouth, wiping it out of his eyes on his sleeve. There was a silence. Juliet squirmed. She had really done it this time. Then, so unexpectedly she thought that she was hearing things, her brother began to laugh.

"What's so funny? I nearly burned down the manor, destroyed the kitchen, covered you in foam and set fire to one of your shirts! Why are you _laughing_?" she wailed which only made Butler laugh more.

"Your... _face_!" he gasped, inhaling flame retardant. Juliet snuffled, unsure whether to laugh or cry. In the end she did both.

"Hey!" Butler said choking on the foam. "Don't cry! It's OK! No-one got hurt, did they?"

"Nnn..no." Juliet choked too, but on her tears, sniffing.

"Then everything's alright then. I haven't shaved yet but it looks like I am in the middle of it!"

That got her smiling again.

"Now come on, we have half an hour to make it look like none of this ever happened before Uncle gets up."

"He is up." A voice rumbled from the doorway. The younger Butlers winced, slowly swivelling round to face their superior.

"Morning Uncle," Juliet said pleasantly. Butler was good at emergencies but she was far better at handling her Uncle's anger explosions.

"May I ask...?"

"Just don't Uncle Major. If it's gone before the Fowls get up then there's no need for anyone else to know, is there?"she smiled angelically.

The Major sighed heavily. "OK. I am going to pretend that I did not discover this scene. If you get caught, I had no idea this had happened. I am going to prepare the car for the repainting man who, incidentally, was still on the phone when I came downstairs."

"Sorry Uncle," Butler muttered. _Whoops._

"Just sort this mess out!" The Major said shaking his head as he turned his back on them and marched outside.

* * *

You will be pleased to find that the older Fowls never found out about the incident. Butler wasn't bothered about his shirt (yes it was his) he had hundreds of them anyway (well, not hundreds, but enough to spare one being incinerated). The Major ignored the fact he had ever seen the blackened ironing-board.

And although Artemis guessed the turn of events, being a young genius who knew about the ironing lessons, saw the pale smoke stains on the white kitchen ceiling and noticed Butler trying to sneak through the tradesman entrance with a long box the shape of a new ironing-board and Juliet following him with a package about the size of a new iron, he said nothing.

A few weeks later Juliet plucked up the courage to have another go and managed successfully to iron one of Butler's shirts without destroying it.

And so, with the story told, that was how Juliet Butler learnt to iron.

* * *

**OK, I realise (having accidently tried it myself) that irons do not spontaneously combust if left alone and face-down for a minute or so. **

**However, for the purpose of this story, they do. ALRIGHT?**

**Besides, you know you all wanted the mental image of Butler being sprayed in the face with a fire-extinguisher by his little sister so don't complain :P**

**I wrote this a while ago so if I missed anything whilst I speed edited I apologise please ignore it and/or tell me so I know. Ta :)**

**Anyway, Happy Boxing Day!**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	7. Gerontophobia

_**Gerontophobia - The fear of people older than you.**_

**Well that's _one_ of the definitions I found for that word and it suits this chappie quite well.**

**The first one of these Lil' Rems that's not really long enough to be a one-shot by itself. It's kinda too long to be a drabble though...**

**Maybe it's a drabble-shot.**

**It's here because I decided it's been too long since the last one but I haven't got good enough longer ones lined up.**

**I mentioned this to Beckett Simpleton when she wrote "Along Came A Spider" (which you should read by the way because it is actually brilliant) because this could be a "X-many" years later of that :P**

**I've tidied it up a bit since back then and decided it's now pretty much worthy of you guys bothering to read.**

**On with it.**

**

* * *

**

"That is such a cliché," Juliet snorted, grabbing something from the cupboard. "You seriously expected me to run out screaming because a big hairy thing found its way into the kitchen?"

She walked past where Artemis was sat on a breakfast-bar stool with his feet firmly off the floor and crouched down on the tiles.

"Come here little fella..." she murmured, scooping the critter into a glass with a piece of paper.

Artemis leant well out of the way as she came back and watched closely as she opened a window and gently tipped it out. He didn't glance at his bodyguard, close by as always, already knowing the smirk that would be playing around his friend's face.

"Well from your original reaction I presumed they scared you," Artemis said stiffly.

"Nah. It just gave me a bit of a fright. I'm not scared of anything really," Juliet grinned, putting the glass in the sink. "Why? Are you?"

"No. I..." But he fidgeted, straightening his tie, and the younger Butler caught the movement.

"You are, aren't you?" she shrieked - delighted.

Her brother, who was cleaning one of his lesser-used guns, laying each piece out separately on a cloth on the breakfast bar, looked up to check his charge wasn't about to be attacked by his sister and returned to his polishing.

"Not _scared_ of, per say," Artemis grumbled. "I would just rather they didn't inhabit the Manor."

Juliet laughed, disappointed that she'd missed out on a golden opportunity now that Mr. Spider was back outside but ecstatic she'd found something new to tease the Fowl heir about.

"It's only natural to have some irrational fears," Artemis mumbled, red-faced. "You must have some too, even if you won't admit it."

"Hmm..." Juliet pondered the question. Butlers weren't supposed to be afraid of anything. She remembered some of the training she'd dreaded. "Well I am a bit claustrophobic I s'pose."

"Reasonable." Artemis nodded.

"You know what I wonder?"

"I have a feeling you're about to inform me," Artemis sighed.

"I wonder... what _Butler's_ scared of," Juliet stage-whispered. The subject of the wondering looked up from the slide he was cleaning. The look he gave her was enough of an answer.

"Keep wondering, Jules," he grunted. "And when you find something, tell _me_, so I can tell _you _you're wrong."

Juliet thought hard. Nothing came to mind. "Oh come on Artemis, help me out here. You guys spend all your time together - you must have heard him squeak at something."

"Juliet, are you acquainted with your brother?" Artemis asked mock-seriously. "I don't think his vocal chords are even capable of such a sound."

"Thank-you, Artemis," Butler said, thankful that the boy was on his side with this one.

"Wait!" Juliet yelped. "I just thought of something!"

"What?" Butler said warily. This was the girl, his loving little sister, who had spent over a decade of her life following him round and occasionally pulling pranks with amusing effects - for her. She could come up with anything.

"Butler is scared of..."

"Yes?" Artemis was curious despite himself.

"Well you know how he acts around people? You know all wary and that?"

"That's part of the job description, Jules," Butler flicked the duster he was using at her.

"But there are some people you're _really_ suspicious of..." she said, patting him on the shoulder as she made her way out of the room slowly.

Butler scowled, a vague idea of where this was going coming to mind.

"Go on?" Artemis frowned. Surely he would have noticed whatever Juliet was about to announce.

"My brother, the toughest guy in the world," she said, sighing. "Is scared of..."

_This should be interesting_, Artemis thought, glancing at Butler's sullen face.

"...little..."

A pause as she made her way to the door, calculating her escape.

"...old..."

Butler picked up a missile to throw at her.

"...ladies!" Juliet guffawed and sprinted out of the room before her brother could throw the tin of polish at her.

"You know," Artemis said, safe in the knowledge that his bodyguard wouldn't throw anything at _him_. "She does have a point. Ever since the..."

"The fish restaurant thing, I know," Butler growled irritably. "I'm more cautious about benign looking opponents, yes I'll admit that."

Artemis let out a quiet snigger. Butler scowled.

"You might remember that that particular old woman was a part of my death," Butler pointed out. "The first one."

"Yes but you really needn't give every elderly female the..." Artemis waved his hand in place of the words.

"Glare of death," Juliet supplied from behind the safety of the door.

"Oh shut up the pair of you," Butler grouched.

They laughed at him. Perhaps the only two people in the world to survive such a feat.

Survive, yes, but that didn't mean he couldn't get his own back. He smirked, clicking the gun back together and Artemis stopped laughing. Juliet peeked round the doorframe to see why.

"Why have you got that 'I'm-going-to-be-seriously-evil-and-enjoy-it' look on your face?" she asked cautiously.

"No reason," Butler shrugged. "Just to warn you that if I hear any more of this you..."

He pointed the butt of the gun at his sister. "Are going to wake up in a box."

Juliet audibly groaned.

"And you..." he pointed at his charge. "Are going to wake up in a bed full of spiders."

Artemis froze and, if possible, paled. There was a silence. Butler's turn to laugh.

"Ah... Butler?" Artemis said after a moment.

"Yes?" the bodyguard, brother and quite possibly evil-tormentor, asked, as innocently as a man of his stature and history can ask.

"You _are_ joking, aren't you?"

"Oh am I Artemis? Am I indeed?" he left the room chuckling.

Artemis and Juliet looked at each other.

"I think I just did something stupid," Artemis said in disbelief.

They appeared to have awoken a monster.

"I think we did," Juliet agreed.

* * *

**So, yeah. Ta Da.**

**I'm just gonna shut up now.**

**Tarrah till next time.**

**Unless you review. Because I will always reply.**

**Almost always, anyway.**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	8. Toast

**Why Not To Attempt Retirement - ****Part One**

**This will be a three part thing. A trilogy, if you want to call it something posher. **

**Dunno whether all of them will be up one after another or mixed in but here you go anyway. **

**I can let you know that the last one isn't finished yet and this is the shortest of the three. If you wanted to know that.**

**On with it. Enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

One January morning, at the end of his early morning rounds, Butler had finished checking for any breaches in security overnight that the cameras might have picked up (there were none) and was making his way down to the kitchen for breakfast.

Perhaps any other security man, and certainly any of the Fowls, would not have noticed anything out of the ordinary. But, being a Butler, he caught the smell of smoke even before the alarm went off. Only by a few seconds, given, but still enough to be halfway down the stairs before the harsh beeping began.

Thankfully, the kitchen smoke alarm was isolated and so didn't set off the rest of the Manors fire-alarms unless the smoke was sufficient enough to set off the secondary alarm. This was a technique employed due to the instrument's habit of going off whenever a single particle of singed food graced its over-sensitive sensors. Which was almost every time Juliet made toast. Sunday Dinner? No problem - that, she could do perfectly. Toast, however, was a different question.

Butler speed-walked to the kitchen, wondering whether Juliet would be the culprit again this time, perhaps making the twins an early snack. The lack of hysterical toddler giggling struck that option out.

He placed a palm on the wall, and then the back of his hand on the doorhandle, just as a precaution. Both were cold.

He sniffed again. Definitely smoky. A fire? What else could it be? It didn't smell like a fire. It smelt like...

Butler edged along the wall with his Sig Sauer drawn, just in case.

The kitchen door was ajar.

Furious muttering was coming from inside.

Butler rounded the corner silently.

Artemis, who was flapping a tea-towel over the toaster, jumped about a foot in the air and knocked a plate off the side with an almighty crash. Butler sighed, reigning in his adrenalin and sliding his gun back into his waistband holster. He whipped another tea-towel off the side and flapped it at the smoke-detector. A quick-fix to shut the thing up. He'd have to reset it and sort it out on the computer system later but it wasn't a great issue.

"What have I told you about using kitchen appliances?" he asked rhetorically, picking up the pieces of the plate.

"Someday I'll have to learn to use modern day domestic devices," Artemis argued, stepping out of the way. "And I may as well start now."

Butler snorted, dropping the shards into the bin. "You must be joking."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Artemis huffed.

Butler lent on the side and glanced into the toaster, considering the charred bread before he answered. "No offense, Artemis, but _when_, in the great long line of Fowls, have _any_ of your family done something you could pay someone else to do for you?"

"Granted," Artemis admitted. "But _I _am different."

"You could say that," Butler snorted.

He continued to examine the cause of the miniature blaze. The toaster, as expected, was smouldering slightly. "Artemis, why on earth have you put it on setting 7?"

"Well I simply assumed the dial was a timer of some sort," the teenager mumbled. "It seemed logical, and in the absence of an instruction manual I simply assumed..."

Butler, refraining from reciting one of Madame Ko's favourite quotes _'Assuming makes and ass of you and me'_, unplugged the toaster and used a knife to scrape the incinerated bread from the grill.

"Well it isn't," he said bluntly.

"I think I may have distinguished that," Artemis muttered drily.

"Call yourself a genius," Butler smirked, chuckling slightly as he tipped the last of the crumbs into the waste-disposal unit next to the sink and replaced the toaster on the side. "Did you not realise something may be amiss when the thing started smoking and the smell of slowly incinerating bread filled the air?"

He was slightly surprised to see that Artemis actually looked hurt by the comment. He clapped his charge on the shoulder.

"Hey, I was only kidding," he chuckled.

"Still, you think I would at least be able to make myself a slice of toast."

"Well we all have to learn," Butler shrugged. "I couldn't make toast once."

"Yes, perhaps. When you were a toddler," Artemis said moodily.

Butler smiled. "Admittedly. Although I did live on beans on toast for most of my pre-teen life."

Artemis sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry. I've set the alarm off and caused a scene all over a slice of cooked bread."

"Listen," Butler said. "Stop worrying. The amount of times Juliet has set that _bleeping_ alarm off... honestly I've lost count. And that's just this week."

Artemis smiled slightly. Butler placed a hand on his shoulder.

"And don't worry about surviving in the future, either. I promise to be your personal chef for as long as you want or need. If not life."

"I can't even make my own breakfast," Artemis said miserably.

"Of course you can," Butler shrugged. "There's always cereal."

"That's not what I meant," Artemis frowned.

"Then wake me up or come find me next time you're hungry."

"Butler, I can't disturb you at all hours for such a trivial thing."

"It's never bothered you before," Butler smirked.

Artemis sighed. "I suppose not."

"Besides, I'd hardly let you starve to death after putting up with you for this long, would I? And..." Butler jerked his head towards upstairs. "I also won't tell your mother about this little incident. Although Juliet will be delighted to know that someone has finally managed to burn toast even better than she can."

Artemis stopped looking quite so forlorn. "Thank-you."

"Just promise me something," Butler said brightly.

"What?" Artemis asked, slightly suspiciously. His bodyguard considered him critically.

"_Never_," he said seriously. "Try to use the microwave."

* * *

**Yeah I know Artemis would probably work out how to use a toaster... but then we would have missed out on this Lil' Rem'. **

**So you know, ah well. **

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	9. Driving Lessons

**Why Not To Attempt Retirement: Part Two**

**Driving Lessons**

**I suppose I should have pointed out that this is why Butler should never retire. _Ever. _**

**Well I'm sure you all knew that anyway but I just thought I'd let you know in case you didn't get that.**

**I also realised that _Toast_ is similar to my first ever FanFic _Just My Cup of Tea _:) (was that a bit of *shameless advertising*?)**

**Thanks for all reviews so far.**

**On with it.**

**

* * *

**

After weeks of intensive training and much practicing around the fountain in the manor grounds, Artemis deemed he was ready. His bodyguard, however, was not so sure.

"Roundabouts, Artemis?" Butler asked. "Seriously?"

"Butler, I have to attempt them sometime," Artemis said determindly.

Butler said nothing. Juliet, eavesdropping as usual, called down from the upper floor and answered for him. "I think what my brother means, is that he was hoping to live for a few more decades first."

"Juliet, a little faith please," Artemis said, hurt. "I'm not a _complete_ novice at driving now."

Juliet laughed, coming down the stairs. "Yeah well, I think he's having flashbacks from my first roundabout. And at least I have a _little _bit of feet-eye co-ordination."

She thumped him playfully on the back. "You have to admit, genius boy, you're actually useless at some things. Cooking is one of them, driving is another."

"I'm considering being offended by that," Artemis frowned. "I mean to say, how many times have I _actually_ had a car-accident, Butler?"

"Seven," muttered the bodyguard tiredly.

"I have it as five," Artemis huffed. "The first one in the flowerbed doesn't count. I could have simply been testing my off-road abilities."

"Yeah, except for the fact you screamed like a girl, stalled, and then Butler had to push the car out of the rosebush," Juliet pointed out, who had been startled out of teaching Myles and Beckett a bit of gardening by the particular incident and therfore heard said screaming. And the swearing. Thankfully the twins were too busy laughing themselves silly at the former to hear the latter.

"I did _not_ scream like a girl!" Artemis protested. "As a matter of fact I barely let out a gasp of surprise, which I think is understandable when the vehicle does not respond as accurately as one expected it to."

"Yeah, because really you were aiming for the rhododendrons," Juliet snorted. "Besides, that wasn't the only one. Crash number two...?"

"Honestly!" Artemis sighed. "You can hardly count the little scrape with the statue, as I assume you are referring to? I didn't even need to apply the brake."

Butler had to cut in there. "That fact, Artemis, is debatable. Had you used the brakes, you wouldn't have hit..."

"_Scraped!_"

"You wouldn't have _scraped_ the door of the car," Butler amended, albeit a little sarcastically. "Said _scrape_ being sufficient enough to crumple the door..."

"That's hardly an accurate description..."

"Which I _then _had to use the angle-grinder to cut open."

"Alright then seven!" Artemis said exasperatedly. "But I haven't had an incident in over... well it must be at least..."

"Two weeks, three days," Juliet mentioned casually.

"Exactly. So I would like to try traversing a roundabout as soon as possible, Butler."

"I don't get a choice in this, do I?" the bodyguard groaned. He _had _been vaguely hoping the accident recalling would have either distracted or deterred his charge from the original subject of the conversation.

"Well I could take Father instead..."

"I class that as a _no_."

* * *

The next morning was a cold, icy January Saturday.

Butler had decided that early morning would be the best time to try a roundabout. To say 'early' would be to define the term 'early' in the book of a Fowl. That is to say, before ten o'clock in the morning. 'Early' for Butler would have constituted as at least a few hours before sunrise.

Still, nine am was considerably early for the young Fowl heir.

Of course, there _was_ the possibility of ice on the road this early on a winter morning, but Artemis's attempts at night driving had not gone well to say the least.

_(_**Crash 3: **_"Now. Lights, Artemis..."_

_Had been the beginning of the lecture on the controls and usage of the head, side, high and fog lights._

_Still, Artemis had then managed to drive half a mile down the lane without noticing Butler's less than mild hints at turning the headlights on before they veered off the near-invisible road and crashed into a hedge. Or for that fact, noticing the distinct lack of lighting._

_Once reaching the road without fatal injury, Butler decided to tell Artemis to turn the lights _on_ and the teenager had subsequently dazzled three cars before managing to decipher the instruction on how to turn the high beams _off_.)_

And so, the morning lull of weekend traffic, was the only reasonable choice.

And so, Butler had got up even earlier than usual to prepare.

Himself _and_ the road that is.

After a quick bout of training to warm himself up, he had set out with a large bucket of salt-grit and driven round the target at least a dozen times to make it safer for his charge. The blackness of the road now stained a lighter browny-orange, although not enough to cause an unfamiliar surface for the learner driver, Butler stepped back and had to admit that this was as much as he could reasonably do to protect his charge. The rest would be down to Artemis himself.

"Good morning, Butler," Artemis came downstairs, dressed as though for an Arctic expedition.

Butler's immediate response was to reply with his usual dry sarcasm with a comment of _"Is it?" _but as Artemis would probably be more confident, and therefore be better at driving if he was encouraged rather than slated, he simply returned the greeting with a mild eyebrow of amusement at his charge's choice of clothing. Minus 4 degrees centigrade wasn't _that _cold.

"Ready?" Artemis hadn't looked this excited since the International Scientific Invention Competition Finals.

_As I'll ever be,_ said Butler's sarcasm. "As soon as you are," said his mouth.

Artemis practically ran to the car and Butler had to remind him that to get to the roundabout they had to survive the journey _to_ said roundabout and so therefore he'd better start concentrating now before they got out onto public roads.

After only one false start where Artemis let out the clutch far to fast in his excitement and stalled with a bounce that caused Butler to whack his head on the roof.

"Never mind, just..." Butler began, rather than. _'Right stop! Let's just get out now.'._

"Handbrake, out of gear, engine off..." Artemis muttered to himself.

They got out of the manor gates without further incident.

(**Crash 4:** _Manor gates _'collided'_ with the front of the car, as follows;_

_"I didn't _collide_ with anything, they _collided_ with me. Therefore, this incident does not conscribe as a crash."_

_"Yes, Artemis, but you're supposed to judge distances and not park so close that they can't physically open without hitting the bonnet."_

_Dent to Artemis's 'cheap' car? Fairly insignificant. Dent to the gates? Considerably more expensive.)_

They trundled at a non-descript speed down the quiet lane that lead from the private grounds of the Manor to the outer world.

_(_**Crash 5:**_ Somehow, apparently, according to Artemis, a _'thing'_ ran across the road, causing him to swerve and land the car in the ditch. Butler, who has 20:20 vision, did not see the _'thing' _and casually pointed out, once Artemis had stopped hyperventilating, that swerving was not the right course of action anyway, and had he considered the _'thing'_ in the road as dangerous to hit, he should have performed an emergency stop.)_

They even got out onto and travelled along the main road at a grand speed of 30 miles per hour.

Butler took a breath and tried not to worry as they passed the lay-by Artemis usually pulled over into to allow his bodyguard to tackle the roundabout.

It was like approaching the brink of a drop on a roller-coaster.

Including the white knuckles from the pair of them, as Butler discreetly considered the strength of this particular restraint device and the thickness of the windscreen, deciding which was more likely to stop him hitting the tarmac in the event of an incident. _Neither_, appeared to be a liable answer.

Artemis's white knuckles were clamped around the steering-wheel at the recommended '_ten-and-two_' position.

Having gone through all the theory and practised in the grounds, Artemis knew what he was doing.

_Imagine the fountain,_ he told himself, trying not to imagine the _incident_ with the fountain.

(**Crash 6:** _The reason that Butler had to buy a bag of cement in an attempt to stop Mrs. Fowl finding out about them using her favourite water-feature as part of the roundabout training. Needless to say, it didn't work. The slightly different coloured grey revealed the chunk out of the decorative pool and resulted in a severe talk to both son and son's bodyguard by Mrs. Fowl. She was almost as scary as Madam Ko for a moment. Well, she had very much liked the fountain the way it was, _'thank-you very much'_.)_

Applying the brake, he dropped the gears down to one and brought the car to a gentle stop. Butler said nothing. The eventual driving instructor wouldn't and Artemis knew what to do. The road was empty. Not a car in sight. A good start.

(**Crash 7: **_The latest, for which the description; _'a mild disagreement with a fellow driver'_ would be putting it politely. Artemis had, and in all admittance it had been a joint incident, been involved in what Juliet described as a _'fender bender' _wherein the two cars had collided for neither of their faults. _

_The car in front had stopped so suddenly but Artemis's reaction times were considerably less than that of the average competent driver and even less than his bodyguard's, who actually had time to shout _"Brake!" _before Artemis hit the pedal. _

_The nose of Artemis's car had _'nudged' _the bumper in front which had consequently _'nudged'_ the rear of the car in front, resulting in, during the red light that had caused the incident, the man at the very front to get out of his car to gesticulate through the window at the man in the middle who pointed at Artemis and joined the first guy in the rampage towards the young driver. _

_Artemis quivered slightly and then remembered who was sitting next to him. _

_Butler rolled his eyes and told Artemis to lock his door. Then he got out and... well, it would be simpler to say that no comments were passed and no charges on the young Fowl heir were pressed.)_

A rumbling warned Butler's sharp ears of an approaching lorry but that was some distance away in the still frosty air.

Artemis checked the roundabout three times before gently pulling out onto the gloriously curved tarmac. He rounded it once and pulled off on the same route as they had planned.

"Ha!" he grinned. "I did it!"

"Well done Artemis." Butler smiled, unable to believe two things; his charge was ating like a genuine teenager, and he'd got off so lightly.

"Can I try again?" Artemis asked brightly.

Butler stopped smiling.

"Please?" he added.

Butler contemplated this.

_Better to quit on a high,_ he thought. Then saw Artemis's face, glowing with his own achievement and relented. He sighed. "Alright. Do a U-turn here then, at the lay-by."

Artemis even managed this without even clipping the grass verge. (_'That definitely wasn't a crash, it was barely a grass-stain on the wheel-rim.'_ And Butler had to admit that the candidate for **Crash 8** was something Juliet managed to do almost _every_ time she drove a car.)

Driving back up to the roundabout for the second time, the pair were more relaxed, which was probably why the events unfolded as they did. Artemis checked the way was clear, and pulled out. Now, in his defence, it was a rather large roundabout, with foliage in the middle, so when the lorry rounded the corner it was quite a surprise.

However, fuelled by his earlier success, this would not have been enough to startle Artemis into swerving, skidding and sliding into a spectacular 180 degree twist, coming to rest facing head on to the truck. The patch of black-ice that had somehow escaped Butler's rounds, however, was.

The truck blared its horn. Artemis duly, and understandably, panicked. Somehow, he remembered to flatten the clutch and stop the car from stalling. Butler, who had clattered his head off the car's stupidly low roof and then the window frame, took control. Yanking the wheel he yelled instructions.

"Accelerator - press it!"

Thankfully, Artemis had been practicing his reaction times on ex-theory tests on the internet since **Crash 7** and stomped his foot almost flat onto the floor a mere second after Butler told him to. The car lurched forward, the angle of the wheels launching the little vehicle into the roundabout's greenery, engine finally coughing into silence.

The truck barrelled past, not even turning back to see if they'd survived.

Butler rested his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.

Artemis didn't release his death-grip on the wheel, knuckles white and almost popping out of the skin.

He eyed his bodyguard cautiously. Surely the head injury hadn't been enough to cause a delayed unconsciousness? He'd seen Butler clash heads with a security official in a helmet and come off better than the guard. Then the massive shoulders started to shake. Artemis was worried he was having some sort of head-trauma induced fit until the booming chuckles escaped Butler's jaws.

Artemis found himself joining in nervously.

"We so nearly died then," Butler said matter-of-factly, once he'd finished laughing. "We _so_ nearly became road kill. After all those world-saving wild adventures - if we died in a car-crash how boring would that be?"

Artemis raised a shaky hand to brush his fringe out of his face. "Outrageously so. Completely mundane."

Butler snorted again. "Your mother is going to _kill_ me. And then possibly you."

Artemis flopped his head into his hands. "I don't suppose we could...

Butler pricked an ear, waiting for the genius plot that would get them out of their latest mess.

"... tidy the car up a bit and pretend it never happened?"

Butler frowned. Not so genius. Considering the position and condition of the car this idea seemed unlikely to suceed.

_As unlikely as kidnapping a fairy?_

He opened the door, stepping out to survey the damage. The front bumper was adorned with copious amounts of shrubbery but was somehow miraculously un-harmed.

"Well, as long as your mother doesn't see the big car-shaped dint in the bushes next time she passes this way... And presuming I can push this beastie out..." Butler rocked the front of the car.

Both the airbags went off with a bang.

Butler was reduced to another rather unprofessional laughing fit at the look of disbelief on his charge's face.

Artemis removed himself from the car.

"This is patently ridiculous, Butler," Artemis sighed, navigating the destroyed plants gingerly. "Why on _earth_ did I decide I would attempt to learn to drive, again?"

"You thought it would be useful in the future," Butler reminded him, leaning on the bonnet, at which the poor abused car's suspension creaked alarmingly, but it didn't budge. Artemis wiped some of the soil from the paintwork and perched next to his bodyguard.

"Will it though?" Artemis asked quietly. "Will it _really_?"

Butler knew what he was asking, in a roundabout sort of way. (Oh ha ha. _Roundabout._)

Scratching his chin thoughtfully for a moment, he considered all the reasons Artemis might need to drive, before coming to a conclusion.

"No. It won't really," he shrugged. "I promise to be your driver for life, unless you're planning on sacking me off."

"Never, old friend," Artemis smiled. "Planning on retiring any time soon?"

"To put it politely, sir," Butler snorted. "Not bloody likely."

* * *

**So, currently trying to learn to drive myself I can relate to this. Only I haven't hit anything yet. **_***touch wood***_

**I can wheel-spin fantastically, emergency stop with gusto and occasionally remember to indicate round a carpark but that's about it.**

**Luckily the family member trying to teach me is just like Butler. **

**Calm and helpful I mean. **

**Not bald. **

**Or tall. **

**Or a blue-diamond bodyguard. **

**Or... well you get it.**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	10. Interlude

**The Interlude**

**So called because it is set between Book 1 (just after) and Book 2 (a lot before) and it's nipped in before the third part of the "Why Not to Attempt Retirement" thingummy so it's an interlude for that too. **

**Other fics may also nip in before the end of that trilogy. The last part isn't finished yet :)**

**On with it then.**

**

* * *

**

_29th December - Four days after "The-fairy-thing-involving-trolls-and-tranquilisers-that-we-still-aren't-talking-about-yet."_

"Butler?"

"Yes, Artemis?" the bodyguard answered.

"Is now a good time?"

Butler was currently half way up a stepladder moving decorations placed by Missus Fowl's _*insert unflattering adjective here*_ Yule Tide Ball decorators out of the sight-line of a CCTV camera.

The fifth one. And that was just in the entrance hall.

"That depends on the task, sir," he answered truthfully.

"Oh... no it isn't a task. I just wished to talk to you about something," Artemis said in a quiet voice. Was that a shred or two of fear in his tone?

Butler didn't say he was too busy, but the boy could see he didn't want to talk. Perhaps for more reason than one.

"Could I help in any way?" Artemis asked.

Butler raised an eyebrow. Something was seriously up with his charge. Asking to help? He wondered if he should do a sneaky DNA test on the boy to check he hadn't been kidnapped and swapped with an imposter by The People's likely vengeful police force.

"I'm sure I'll manage, thank-you," Butler said, stretching over to hook some of the tinsel away from the lens and leaning back to check it really _was _out of the way. It wasn't. He muttered unpleasantries to himself silently, almost forgetting about his charge for a moment. Some of the decorators passed by and complained quietly to each other that he was messing with the symmetrical pattern of their tinsel. Very quietly. They'd already made the mistake of voicing their annoyance at the bodyguard once. Said bodyguard had assured it wouldn't be happening again any time soon. He glared at them. The pair shut up very quickly.

"Would you mind if I talked to you about something I'm concerned about?"

"Not at all, Artemis."

It was part of the job, after all.

"Well..."

Butler suddenly had a thought and interupted.

"Please don't tell me you just found something the fairies left behind as a Christmas present," he muttered, leaning slightly too far over on the ladder to pin the tinsel back up. It wobbled alarmingly and he rebalanced unnervingly nimbly for a man his size.

As much as he was glad Missus Fowl was back to full health, he did wish that she hadn't insisted on a New Year's Eve ball.

_Just a few friends,_ she'd said.

_Because I missed throwing a Christmas party_, she'd said.

_They won't get in the way_, she'd said.

Now he had a list of over 100 people to background and security check for the party in less than two days, whilst keeping an eye on the builders who were fixing up the recently modified doorway _and _checking every single security measure was still fully functional and un-hampered by _bloody_ tinsel.

Or baubles. Or plastic icicles. Or anything else Christmassy or New Year- ish.

And definitely not meddled with by anything fairy-like, be that frilly Christmas angles or slightly less frilly LEP related equipment.

It was times like this that Butler really missed his Uncle. Having an extra Butler around other than Juliet and himself would certainly make life easier. But no. That would be just too simple.

"No, no," Artemis said hurriedly. The bodyguard craned his neck round to make eye-contact with his charge. "It's nothing like that. Although it is to do with the... incident. I just wanted to converse with you about my feelings about the whole event...look out!"

The stepladder slid sideways, tipping alarmingly. Luckily, his manservant had pre-empted the happening and instead of falling, leapt backwards and landed lightly on his feet, even in time to catch the ladder before it clattered to the floor. He even managed not to swear.

"It doesn't matter Butler, it's not important. I'll ask again later," Artemis left hastily before he helped to cause any more incidents.

Butler watched him go and, due to recent events, couldn't bring himself to be very bothered about what his charge hadn't managed to tell him. The boy had already admitted it wasn't important.

_Now, what other security measures could a few festive ornaments obstruct?_

* * *

"Juliet?" Artemis greeted as he sidled into the kitchen.

"Hey Arty," Juliet was equally as busy as her brother. Although she was pre-occupied with the slightly less serious task of icing Christmas biscuits. The seventh batch. This morning.

"How are you today?"

"Why?" Juliet raised an eyebrow. _What do you want?_ She added mentally.

"I'm only inquiring," Artemis sniffed, the snooty gesture actually causing him to inhale the delightfully appetising smell of freshly baked gingerbread biscuits.

"Well it's odd. You don't normally."

"Perhaps it's the Christmas spirit," he sighed.

"Well you're mum is certainly making sure there's enough to go round."

"Hmm," Artemis sat on one of the stools and watched her work from the breakfast bar.

"Something's up with you," she noted.

"No, no..."

"Yes, yes. You wouldn't be feeling guilty about anything?"

Artemis sighed. Why did Juliet have to posses the same seemingly mind-reading skills as her brother and equally be able to utilise her age and strong-acquaintance with himself to, for lack of a better phrase, '_get away with'_ bluntly demanding him to tell her what the matter was?

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he admitted unwillingly.

"And you are coming to me because you are scared of my brother," she guessed. Correctly.

"I have no reason to fear Butler," Artemis said adamantly. "He's the one everyone else needs to be afraid of, not I."

"But...?" Juliet prompted.

"I tried to convey my feelings about the past week's events. However, he's a little busy," Artemis sighed. _And normally he'd drop everything and do whatever I say._

"Aren't we all," Juliet smiled. "If it's any consolation, I don't mind that you drugged us to save our lives. I had a bit of an issue with the kidnapping but you let her go so, you know. Have a biccy."

"Have a what?" Artemis had been following Juliet's speech of apparent forgiveness right up until the word 'have'.

"Biscuit. Go on, nick one. I think I've made too many anyway."

Artemis took one hesitantly and nibbled at the corner. "Thank-you Juliet. For the forgiveness... and the biscuit."

"No problem-o, Arty-mundo," Juliet laughed, snaffling a tree-shaped piece of iced gingerbread for herself.

After a moment or two of quiet munching, Artemis spoke again.

"Do you think your brother shares your mercy?"

"Mercy?"

"The wrong word, perhaps."

"With him, who knows? He's probably got grudges from back from his dark ages," she shrugged.

The play on the historical term "Dark Ages" that he and Juliet had always used to describe Butler's life before the pair of them, made the boy smile slightly, but he was still unsettled.

"Artemis this is _you_ we're talking about. You could get away with crashing the Bentley and he'd still forgive you," Juliet said exasperatedly, taking off her apron and piling up the treats into a few sheets of kitchen roll.

"Damaging a vehicle is slightly less serious than tranquilising your bodyguard and his sister and nearly getting everyone killed," Artemis said miserably.

"Oh Arty shut up," Juliet flicked her apron at him. She was perhaps the only person that would get away with doing that. Either of those things. He was still looking at her forlornly so she relented. "Look. If it helps I'll sort him right? I'll casually slip in a few questions and tell you right?"

"And how do you suppose to do that?"

"Well you know, I'm slick as with the old sneaky-ness."

"Of course," Artemis frowned slightly. "Although I meant how will you get him to talk to you about it?"

"One, because I m his sister. And two," she winked at him as she left the kitchen with the small bundle. "I have gingerbread-men to bargain with, and I happen to know he's an absolute sucker for them."

Feeling as though he was Harry Potter and had just been given the secret to taming Fluffy the three-headed-dog, Artemis headed to his room, hopeful his mother wouldn't catch him on the way up.

* * *

Juliet sneaked round the corner and stood directly behind her brother, not even daring to breath in her attempt before...

"Hey, Dom."

"Is there any point in telling you anything?" her brother grunted.

Juliet shrugged. "Nope. How did you know I was here?"

"One; I smelt the food you're hiding behind your back," he said turning to face her. "And two; you scuffed the edge of the rug a few meters back.

"And three, 'because I'm awesome' right?"

"Something like that," her brother smirked.

"Aww you're no fun," she sighed, handing him her secret weapon of placation.

"Thanks," he took it and she wasn't sure whether he meant for the biscuit or the insult. Deciding to get straight to the point she dived in at the deep end, so to speak.

"You know Artemis is really worried you're holding a grudge on him over the tranquing."

"Yes, I did notice that."

"Then why are you..."

"Prolonging his agony?" he asked. "Because it's the only way I can immaturely and selfishly get my own back on him for putting us all in a ridiculous amount of danger, without going against the job description of _bodyguard_."

"You're evil, you know that?"

"It's been said," Butler shrugged.

"No, seriously, Dom. Stop it. He's really upset," Juliet told him.

"Yeah right."

"No, I mean _really _messed up."

"Go on why?"

"He ate one of my biscuits. That's how upset."

Butler raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And he came to me to ask me what I thought and if I'd help him."

"Oh."

"Yes _oh_."

Butler got to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Well first I am going to either move that sodding angel-thing off the top of the tree in the hall, shift the whole tree to one side, or just lop the thing in half," her brother thought-aloud. "And then, I'm going to talk to Artemis."

"Good boy. You'll get an extra Christmas biscuit for that."

"Oh shut up," Butler grouched, grabbing the last few biscuits and biting into another as he headed down the corridor.

Juliet watched him go. She hoped he'd finish the snacks before he tried yelling at any more decorators. The gingerbread men did nothing for his scary hard-man image.

_Honestly,_ she shook her head. _**Boys**. Getting his own back indeed._

Did she have to sort out _everything_ herself around here?

* * *

After thoroughly terrorising the people who put the tree there and moving the tree himself once they claimed they'd have to wait for the fork-lift truck to be re-rented, Butler climbed the stairs and knocked on his charge's bedroom door.

"Artemis?"

"You may come in, Butler."

He ducked through the doorway. Artemis was sat at his swivel chair, typing something on his laptop computer. Since he closed it down as the bodyguard walked in, Butler suspected it was the boy's virtual diary, he was likely writing up the whole turn of events and everything leading up to them.

"You wanted to talk to me earlier?"

"Yes... well..." Artemis began nervously, standing and swinging his hands together, wringing them.

"It's OK Artemis. I know I've been treating you a little rough since the whole fairy thing and... well I'm sorry for that."

"I thoroughly deserved it, Butler. I cannot say your reaction was not at least anticipated on my behalf."

"No Artemis. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not on this scale, Butler. I nearly got us all killed."

"Well it's not as though it was the first time," Butler smirked. Artemis smiled slightly.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Am I?"

The boy nodded.

"Then yes, Artemis, of course," Butler smiled, reaching out and squeezing his charge's shoulder gently. "Now come on. Let's go convince your mother we actually want to be a part of this party."

"Indeed," Artemis rolled his eyes. They started down the corridor and Butler paused at the top of the stairs.

"And before she tells you otherwise, Juliet did _not_ pay me in gingerbread-men to forgive you. Or at least, if she had, I would have done it anyway."

Butler dug into a deep pocket and handed his charge a small kitchen roll wrapped parcel before opening one of his own and biting off a chunk, chewing appreciatively.

Artemis ate his own considerably more delicately.

He had his bodyguard's pardon, his mother's sanity and half a ton of the Fairy People's gold.

There may be eccentric house-makeover teams invading the manor, a compulsory party to attend civilly and several other problems rolling around in the background, but right now, despite everything, all was good again.

* * *

**Yeah this was nearly called "Ginger-bread Men" but this title fitted better.**

**Bit late for a sorta Christmas fic but hey, you gotta love gingerbread.**

**Yum, eh?**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	11. Badminton

**Badminton**

**No, it's not the last bit of the Why Not To Attempt Retirement, dunno when that'll be typed up and done.**

**Ah badminton. Anyone else feel the urge to wear a shuttlecock as a little hat at times? Maybe that's just me...**

* * *

Artemis Fowl Senior was going to great lengths to get his family 'healthy'.

He chose to ignore the fact that every time he mentioned exercise his eldest son went, if possible, even paler than usual.

He chose to ignore the fact that his maid and occasional bodyguard to his youngest sons, was an international wrestling champion.

And that the family bodyguard would have to buy a whole new batch of shirts if his muscles grew any bigger.

He also chose to ignore the fact that his two youngest sons preferred to finger paint than football.

And that his wife got that exasperated look on her face every time he mentioned buying a sports hall extension for the manor.

Yes. Ignoring all this, Artemis Fowl Senior left, along with his wife to go sports hall shopping for the day, leaving the manor in the hands of his sons and their employees.

Myles and Beckett zoomed through the expensively furnished lounge like two twin tornados fuelled by the excitement that comes before a sleepover, Juliet following close behind catching expensive vases and other breakables as they fell from their plinths. Artemis Junior was trying to read a book on the psychology of toddlers.

_Trying_, being the operative verb.

"Juliet? It's nearly the twins' nap-time, is it not?"

"Sorry Arty, a little busy here," Juliet said as she lunged to save yet another priceless artefact from destruction. "Don't worry, they'll just flake out in a minuet! Anyway, they're sleeping over at Edward's house tonight and his mum will be here in a bit."

Artemis '_hmmed..._' unconvinced. From what he had experienced so far of his new brothers, their energy was almost inexhaustible. He clenched his fists in frustration but his sarcastic reply was interrupted by a buzzing in his left palm.

Sighing he answered it. "Holly?"

"Hey Arty, what you up to?"

"You surprise me, is this simply a social call?"

"Yes, Artemis. For once it is!" He could almost see her smiling. "I've got the afternoon off but Foaly is busy and so are Mulch and Doo-dah."

"What about Number One?"

"No. Qwan is trying to teach him to stop time by himself."

"So I am the last resort?"

"Don't say it like that, it makes me sound so... I don't know. Anyway! You're avoiding the question! Are you busy?"

"As a matter of fact... Myles! Beckett! Please stop that!" Artemis cried exasperatedly as his younger brothers jumped over the back of the chair onto his shoulders.

"Is the simple-toon talking on an imaginary phone?"

"No Myles, I am not. And what have I told you about calling people that?"

"Not to." The twins said together, pulling identical pouts. Artemis sighed. He could never stay annoyed with them for long.

"Why don't you two go play in the playroom for a while and choose the toys you want to take to Edward's house?" The twins pulled identical grins this times and stormed upstairs Juliet trailing behind them.

"Hello? Artemis? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry about that, I was having some trouble with my brothers."

"Ah. Babysitting."

"No. That's Juliet's job, I am simply in the firing line. They're going to their friend's house soon anyway. By the way, the answer to your question is no, I am not busy and yes, you can come for a visit."

"Good, because I'm already on my way."

Half an hour later Juliet came into the living room.

"That's the twins off to Edward's now so we're free."

"Really? That's good because we have a visitor."

"On the way?"

Butler walked into the room in time to catch the end of the conversation and paused, stock-still for a moment, like a dog that's seen a squirrel.

"Already here," he nodded, pointing at a shimmer behind Artemis, hand straying to his gun, just in case.

"Rumbled!" grinned Holly, unshielding and punching the massive manservant on the arm. "See you haven't slackened up on your paranoia."

Butler rolled his eyes slightly and accepted the half-hug she gave him. "See you haven't slackened up on trying to catch me out."

"Yeah, yeah," Holly laughed. "Prepared, right?"

"Hi Holly, how've you been?" Juliet asked hugging her.

"Oh not bad, I saw a good zero-G wrestling match the other day, I'll see if I can get Foaly to download it onto something your relics can run, I've got it recorded on the Core box if not."

"Core box?"

"The People's version of Sky television, I believe," Artemis said, feeling a bit left out of the proceedings. "Do I not get a hello?"

"Sorry Arty," Holly said squeezing the teen tightly and making him wish he hadn't bothered complaining. "So, any plans?"

"What?"

"Well I didn't come all this way just to stand here!"

"Of course. Well..."

"There's no point in just sitting around watching TV or something," Juliet chipped in. "Unless Foaly can send up that match now?"

"Hardly the most social of activities," Artemis said. Anything to avoid watching two obese gnomes collide in a zero-gravity chamber.

"How about a game in the gym?" asked Butler.

Almost anything.

Had he been close enough, Artemis would have kicked him. The gym? Sport? He glanced at his bodyguard, seeing a shadow of a grin. He'd done that on purpose.

"I really don't think..." Artemis began.

"Sounds great!" beamed Holly, linking arms with him and Juliet. "Lead the way, Butler. I have a feeling this is going to be fun!"

She was right. In a way.

The gym was quite big, not as big as a sports hall, but just about big enough to house all of the Butlers' weights and exercise machines.

"Wow!" Holly whistled, rooting through some stacked up boxes. "This is a lot of stuff!"

"Yeah. Brother here likes to keep fit for some reason," Juliet told her.

"And you don't?" Butler muttered from the door.

"So come on. What shall we play?" Juliet asked.

"There isn't much room, perhaps we should all go and..." Artemis started to say.

"What's this for?" interrupted Holly, holding up a shuttle-cock.

"...play a board game..." Artemis muttered. Although there was no chance that any of the 3 pairs of trained ears hadn't heard him, no one was listening.

"Badminton, I think," Juliet said scavenging through another box. "Hey look! Rackets!"

To Artemis's dismay, she had found 5 badminton rackets.

"Well we definitely haven't got enough room for a game of badminton..." he said, clutching at excuses.

"I can move all this stuff, if you want?" Butler said unhelpfully.

"But we haven't got a net."

"We could use a pair of tights if we stretched them between the two treadmills," Juliet suggested.

"But..." Artemis frantically thought of another excuse.

"Oh come on Arty," Juliet said. "It'll be great!"

Artemis gave in.

"Alright! Alright! I give up!" he sighed. "I suppose you require my help to clear space for a court?"

"If you insist," Butler said, for some reason he had a rather amused look on his face.

"I'll go and get tights," Juliet grinned, running out of the room and leaving the others to do the tidying up.

"Where are we going to put it all?" asked Holly.

"Erm... just shove it to the sides a bit I think," Butler said lifting a box that Holly could have practically _lived_ in and moving it to the edge of the room. The elf slid up her sleeves and set to work pushing things aside.

Artemis stood there watching.

"Are you just going to stand there watching?" puffed Holly after a while.

Artemis sighed and went to lift a box about the size of a large shoebox that looked quite light. Deceivingly so, as it turned out. He bent his knees, lifting with the correct posture; straight back, chin up and _lift! _

Actually, what happened was that Artemis fell flat on his backside when the box didn't leave the floor.

Embarrassed he picked himself up and checked that no one had noticed.

Good. Butler had his back to him moving the treadmills apart and Holly had her head in a box searching for spare shuttle cocks.

Stifling a cough, he had another go, with the same almost the same result. The difference this time being that Butler, Holly _and_ Juliet saw him fail miserably.

"Erm... Artemis?" Juliet asked tentatively holding up a pair of laddered tights she had found in the laundry. "Are you alright?"

There was a silence. Broken only by Holly trying to disguise her hysterical laughter as choking on the dust cloud she had caused. Juliet had slightly more self control and managed to make do with a smile, be that one badly hidden behind her hand. Butler didn't even smirk. He didn't need to. His eyes gave it away. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"Artemis that box has Juliet's old weights in it."

"Ahem... of course," Artemis said stiffly, which only made Holly laugh more. Juliet picked up the box with ease.

"Awww! You got me these for my sixth birthday! I remember I used to only be able to lift two at a time!" she said, swinging the box around and over her shoulder to pass it to her brother.

"Thank-you Juliet, I'll take that," Butler said trying to avoid Artemis suffering too much embarrassment, but undoing his work by lifting the box with one hand to put it on a pile of other old boxes of weights.

"Shall we ah... begin?" Artemis said, trying to save what little dignity he had left. If he was trying to cause himself _less_ humiliation he should have shut up.

Soon after, the makeshift net was ready. All that was left to do was decide the teams.

"We could flip a coin?" Butler suggested, taking off his jacket and hanging it on a treadmill.

"Nah, boys v.s Girls," Juliet grinned. "To start with."

Artemis groaned. _There was going to be more than one game?_

It was slow at first, until they got into the stride of things, or rather 3 of them did. Artemis muttered about warming-up for a while but eventually gave up.

"Get it Holly!" Juliet yelled. "Yeah! Well done!"

"Yours!" Butler shouted, then sighed. "Artemis _yours_ means that _you_ get it."

"I realise that Butler," Artemis said grumpily. To be honest. Butler might as well be playing on his own. And the girls knew it, making it harder for him by hitting short front shots to make Artemis do some work. Unfortunately for the boys, the only thing Artemis had managed to hit with his racket was Butler. Three times. In fact.

Needless to say they were losing 9-2.

The last straw was Butler ripping the armpit out of his shirt lunging to stop the shuttle cock hitting Artemis on the head for the umpteenth time. The block was successful, the bodyguard always was. But the boy fell over anyway, landing with a thump and bending his racket in half which made Holly, who was already in tears of laughter from the massive hole in Butler's shirt, laugh so hard that Artemis nearly had to call Foaly to ask what to do if a Fairy passed out from lack of air. It took a while for her to calm down enough to breathe properly, in which time Butler had swapped his shirt for a t-shirt and Juliet had rediscovered the fifth racket she had found, much to Artemis's dismay, it seemed the 5's had turned against him.

"Mind if we swap the teams about?" Butler asked, reclaiming his racquet and looking almost _hopeful_.

"I suppose it's only fair," Holly sighed reluctantly.

So Butler exchanged Artemis for Juliet for the second set of games and they started again.

After a while Holly got beyond exasperated with _'The useless Mudboy'_. But Artemis had a plan.

"We have no chance of winning with my physical attributes, yet if I put my brains to work..."

"Good point," she said reasonably. "Got a plan?"

"Of course," the teenage genius replied.

"Go on then," Holly sighed. Whatever it was, they couldn't be much worse then they currently were.

"I shall pretend to cover the front left corner and then move to the right when they hit it at me," he whispered while the Butlers got drinks.

It was a good enough plan to save them from losing and worked for a little while until the opposite team realised. However it wasn't winning them any points.

"Time for phase two of the plan, hit it low, they are both to tall to get to the ground quickly."

Holly agreed. The Mudboy did have a point except...

"That's it! You two have got to be cheating!" Holly howled as the Butlers flicked back the seventh trick shot she and Artemis played. They never, unlike the latter two, collided, or went for each others hits. The Butlers grinned. Actually it was more matching smirks.

"You must have some sort of physic connection to do with being related!" Holly accused them.

"Not technically possible Holly, telekinetic links have never..." Artemis began.

"I demand a refund! I want Juliet back!" moaned Holly covering her ears to save her brain from more complicated scientific explanations. That wiped away Butler's smile.

"Er... Shouldn't we do all different teams? Just to make it fair," he said dodging as his sister attempted to whack him with her racquet behind their backs.

"OK. Alright then," Holly said, hoping that her next game would end in better results.

It did. For her.

"Oh Argh-Tee-_Mess_!" groaned Juliet as he fell over his loafered feet _again_.

"Well if you could refrain from insisting to hit _all_ the shots."

"I wouldn't need to if you actually _went_ for any!"

This continued for several serves until...

"OK! OK! Enough already! I've had my laugh," Holly relented, having just hit Artemis between the eyes with the shuttle cock for the third time.

"Food?" asked Butler, his stomach growling.

"Good idea. I'll help," Juliet said following her brother to the kitchen, anything to stop Artemis from _attempting_ more badminton.

A while later, Holly and Artemis had showered and Butler and Juliet had made Jacket Potatoes with a choice of toppings. Artemis chose cheese, Holly; salad and the Butlers both had all of the above and beans. The phone rang as they were eating. Butler answered it.

"Fowl Manor... Yes... of course... yes sir... Yes I'm sure we can cope, sir... Would you like me to collect you from there?...Certainly... Goodnight sir."

"Who was that?" Juliet asked, as if she didn't know. Who else would her brother call 'sir'?

"Mister and Missus Fowl are going to stay over for the night in a hotel. They'll not be back until tomorrow afternoon," Butler explained.

"Well, the twins aren't due back until then either," Juliet said. "Are you busy tomorrow Holly? It is a weekend for you too?"

"No, I don't think so anyway. Do you mean I could stay over?" Holly said hopefully.

"Of course you can," Butler said smiling. "I could go get one of the guest rooms ready if you like."

"Yes please! Then we could have another game of badminton tomorrow!" Holly grinned. "A rematch!"

Artemis groaned.

_Oh no._

* * *

**Not my best work I think, but just a little something. **

**And Holly's in it. Which I don't think I've ever done on here before.**

**Anyhoo, hope it made you smile,**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
**** O**

**p.s the dog and squirrel bit, you even say "squ..." to my mutt and he jumps up looking for a small bushy tailed creature to chase :P**


	12. Banking On It

**This is kinda only here because I realise I haven't posted anything in a while. I should've done a April Fools one... Shame I missed that. Maybe next year.**

**It's not a funny one either. It's only here to remind people I'm here. Hello there :)**

* * *

Artemis stared in horror at the numbers. He had known it would be difficult. He had known the accounts would drop. But this...

Artemis double checked the figures. How was a nine year old supposed to run an empire? Even if he _was_ a genius.

He sighed and closed down the window, opening another on his computer. Somehow he had to write a program that took money from someone else's bank and placed it in the Fowl's without leaving a trace...

"Arty, dear? Are you still awake?" His mother called from outside his room.

"I shall turn in presently, Mother. I just have a few... ah issues to wrap up first," he answered.

She opened his door, giving him just enough time to open an especially short-keyed window containing a children's computer game.

"Oh Arty, issues? You may play on games all night if you wish," she said, kissing the top of his head.

"It's so nice to see you acting like an ordinary young boy," her voice broke towards the end of the sentence, tears forming fast in her eyes. She squeezed his shoulders for support. "Goodnight, Arty."

"Goodnight, Mother."

She left the room with a swish of nightgown and click of a well oiled lock. The young genius sighed in relief, closing the ridiculous car game he had been losing so spectacularly at. A few weeks ago his mother would easily have detected this fact and realised he was tricking her. Now though she didn't seem to notice much at all. She had been sleeping in for longer. Going to bed earlier. Spending more and more time locked away. Only speaking to Artemis himself and occasionally the maid that served her.

_Talking of which. _

Artemis opened up the spreadsheet of workers. He had already lain off all of the gardeners, since his mother didn't venture outdoors any more, they had been the first to go. Next he unemployed over half of the maids and cooks he deemed unnecessary for the workings of the manor and unnoticeable enough for his mother, after all, she didn't need any more stress. He disliked deceiving her so, but it was better for her health if she was kept in the dark about the financial troubles they were suffering.

He toyed around with the numbers, deciding to dismiss a further half of the cooks and most of the maids. After all, as long as he kept the three main women that served his mother, he could make do with one of them, and Butler of course, and she would hopefully remain unaware. His train of thought continued to the next natural station. Security. How many could he sack and without sacrificing the manor's protection? He cut out most of the names under the heading, narrowing it down to just the head of security, CCTV specialist and his personal bodyguard.

Of course, it was easy, from an outsider's point of view, who he should remove from his list of employees and their wages.

_No,_ thought the boy. _I couldn't_...

Butler's pay may have been higher, but he had been with Artemis longer. Was more reliable. Trustworthy. Artemis tried to put his personal views aside. The head of security was a man who was not taking being employed by a pre-decade-aged boy very well. In fact he only listened to Artemis' orders because of Butler. Did he need his bodyguard more than he needed the manor's security chief? Was that selfish on his behalf?

He moved onto the next name. The camera specialist had made a program from scratch for Fowl Manor's personal close circuit television security. But he was a small, weedy man. He wouldn't be much help in the event of a break in, even if his cameras picked it up first. Besides, it would not take long for him to work out how to use the system himself.

Artemis docked the man's pay off his equations. He now had just two chefs, three maids, the head of security and Butler's wages to pay. That should be enough.

Next he checked the bills... and had to start all over again.

Pulling up a plan of the manor he cordoned off several portions he judged rarely inhabited and used a complicated program he had devised himself to project an estimate of the next month's cost of electricity and water if none of those areas were used. That was better. He shut down his computer and collapsed gratefully into bed.

* * *

"Good morning, sir," Butler said, placing Artemis' Full English and orange juice on the breakfast bar he was sat at.

"Hmm..." Artemis replied, folding the sheets of paper he had been re-reading in half and sliding them across the surface to his manservant.

"Today's tasks, sir?"

"Yes. I need these employees to be informed of their immediate release..." he indicated the list of names neatly typed onto the crisp surface. "And these areas of the manor closed off. We need to cut down on our energy usage. The invoice for last month's electricity was simply extortionate; we do not even visit the south wing of the building more than once a year, yet its electricity usage alone took up an eighth of the cost!" A slight exaggeration perhaps but he needed to convey his point.

Butler nodded, deciding not to mention that the electricity was used to fuel a precautionary light sequence, one of the deterring security measure he himself checked whether the rooms they protected were used or not.

"Oh and Butler?" he questioned as the manservant turned to leave.

"Yes sir?"

"Why are you serving my breakfast this morning?"

"It's the cooks' day off, sir," the bodyguard explained.

"Both of them?"

"Yes, sir."

"They couldn't take their breaks on different days, I suppose?"

"Apparently not, sir. But don't let it concern you; I was taught Cordon Bleu cooking as part of my training."

"Of course," his charge said as he tucked into his usual Sunday morning meal, finishing his mouthful before adding. "I wasn't alarmed, simply curious, that's all. You may leave now."

"Yes sir." Butler exited with the unenviable task of informing several members of staff that they were no longer required.

* * *

The next week past in a rush of complaint letters from ex-staff and money demands. Pretty soon Artemis found himself in the same position; sat at his desk pouring through wages and incomes. His mother's mental health had deteriorated further too. So far in fact, that he had been forced to call in a specialist. Post traumatic stress. Depression. Nothing to be done but rest and recuperation but if you just sign here we could offer some medicine that could speed up the recovery process... Pills and more bills swirled around his head. Expensive pills. He had even out their funds somehow.

Well, those two chefs could go if Butler could cook for him. Artemis had thoroughly enjoyed all the meals his manservant had cooked him last Sunday. And he could survive without another two maids if he kept the most hardworking. And the head of the security... Artemis was sure Butler could cope with defending the manor now that the family's darker ventures had come to an end. The acquaintances and enemies they had once had, had turned away from the crippled business partner once the Fowl Star had gone down. And Father...

_No. Don't think about Father. _

He typed furiously for a moment, distracting his thoughts, but _still_ the figures were out.

And there was another problem to consider. He was piling more and more responsibility onto his bodyguard without any correlation in the man's wages.

Hopefully the man would stay regardless. He'd have to. Artemis was banking on it.

But why would anyone want to stay in the unstable employment of a failing, pathetic, ran-by-a-child... he kicked over the wastepaper basket in a fit of childish pique. The clatter resonated through the floorboards to his bodyguard's ears.

"Artemis? Are you alright?" the deep, familiar voice asked from outside his door.

"Yes Butler I'm perfectly fine!" he snapped a little harshly.

"May I come in?"

"If you insist so," Artemis huffed, the childish side of him appearing in his frustration.

"Sir? I've been wondering..." Butler continued, entering the room almost as cautiously as he would if it had contained a live bomb.

"Have you?" the question was spat with such contempt that Butler nearly left it at that. But it was his job to protect his charge from anything. Including himself. He continued less tentatively.

"Yes sir. Is there anything bothering you? Anything that I could help with?"

"No." Artemis said defiantly.

"You're sure, sir?"

"No." Artemis said in a softer tone. "No Butler I'm not sure. Nothing adds up anymore."

"Care to elaborate, young master?" Butler asked, pleased to be getting somewhere.

"I'm going to have to get rid of that security chief man and leave us with just one maid... even then, even with half the manor closed we just don't have the funds to support ourselves and..." the last confession took the most out of him. "And I don't know what to do," he whispered.

Butler surveyed the screen for a few minuets.

"I have a suggestion, sir."

"Well go on. It can't be worse than what I've come up with."

"Dock my pay, sir."

"What?" Artemis thought he had misheard.

"Deduct some money off my wages, sir. I have enough savings to be going on with and my accommodation and meals here are practically free. So..."

"Butler I couldn't. I'm giving you _more_ jobs, not less. I should be giving you a bonus."

"With respect, sir. I'm thankful I still have a job. Many of the ex-employees are rather... should we say _jealous_?... of my position."

"You're sure?"

"Yes sir," Butler said sincerely. Jealous was putting it politely. Seething? Vengeful? A little closer to the mark.

"By how much?" Artemis asked, clicking on the section of spreadsheet with Butler's wage. Butler leaned over to the keyboard and jabbed a few number keys. Artemis was taken aback.

"You're certain? That's..."

"Plenty enough for me to live on, sir," Butler said seriously. "I have another suggestion that might help."

"Yes?" Artemis said, intrigued. He just needed another thousand or so pounds and they'd be set.

"Get rid of the final maid, sir."

"But that would mean you would have to..."

"I'm quite capable, sir. And Juliet could help, for free for now of course as she is underage. So long as she was allowed to live here. And while we're on that subject, you may as well close the staff's quarters now there's only the two of us down there. If we could use two of the guest rooms instead?"

"Of course you can but... are you sure?" Artemis couldn't hide the amazement in his voice.

"Definitely, sir," Butler confirmed.

"Then I think... I think we're sorted," Artemis double checked the figures. "Yes. Slightly above in fact... I could boost your pay by..."

"Don't. Keep it how it is for now until everything settles out a bit," Butler said firmly.

Artemis opened his mouth. And closed it again.

"Goodnight sir," his bodyguard said, laying a hand on his young charge's shoulder for the briefest of moments before leaving the room.

Artemis sat back in his swivel chair and stared at the screen in amazement. How the man could be so selfless he didn't know. Could he have been so unselfish? Was it his duty or his nature that made him do such a thing? Deciding to fathom the workings of his bodyguard's mind another time he changed into his nightclothes and got into bed. For the first time in a week he slept deeply, without money worries invading his dreams.

* * *

Butler sighed, stretching out his muscles. Life was about to get a bit tougher.

_Tougher,_ he snorted mentally. As though the luxury of Fowl Manor was anything near _tough_.

Still, no more full nights sleep for this bodyguard. Smirking slightly at the prospect of deposing the head of security, who held a serious grudge against both of the Butlers currently working for the Fowls. Although '_currently_' was perhaps the incorrect term now. Butler clenched his fists, '_manning-up_' as Juliet would call it, knowing what the source of his grief would say if he could see him acting so soft.

He rolled over, checking his alarm was set. He'd likely wake up naturally anyway but it was always better to be prepared.

He'd tell his sister about this in the morning. Not that it would make much difference, she was used to helping him out anyway and eventually she'd end up getting paid for it if she was lucky.

Butler stretched again. Enough worrying for now. Time for sleep.

Things would be OK in the end, or at least he hoped so.

He was banking on it.

* * *

**Yes, this does just kind of end. But it was just one of those things hanging around in the background that I picked up, dusted off and flung on here.**

**Anyhoo.**

**While I'm here with a chance to say something to anyone who's bothered to read this far, I'm gonna do a bit of a *shameless advertising alert*.**

**You guys should read Beckett Simpleton's "Alexander the Great". It's the first part of the few times re-write, and you should read it. And when you've done that, please give it a review and let her know what you think. Beck deserves it for all the hard work :)**

**Anyhoodles, tarrah till next time and yeah I know, who knows when that'll be, eh? :P**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	13. Following Protocol

**Here it is, bit of a filler, no actual plot to speak of, just a bit of my usual putting my favourite Butler boys in near-death situations :) Woop Butler-Bashing :D**

**People (that means you Beck - ;) -) have been asking for me to get updating this - and they're damn right I should - so here you go. Sorry if it ain't my best.**

**Thanks to everyone who's not given up on me :)**

* * *

**_11:42 AM_**

"I don't like this, sir," The Major rumbled.

"I don't pay you for your opinion, Major," Mr. Fowl snapped, a little harshly. "And I am well aware of the dangers."

The Major decided that his job was to protect his charge and so a little impertinence would have to be tolerated by the man.

"Dangerous is putting it mildly, Artemis," he said softly.

"I know," Artemis Senior said sharply. Irritated that his manservant was right.

They had been in dangerous situations before, of course, but they had never walked directly into a trap.

"You don't have to come. I could handle this alone," Artemis said stiffly.

The Major snorted. "With the greatest respect, sir. You must be joking."

"Well then Major, what do you suggest?"

The Major thought about it. He would suggest _not going at all_, to be honest.

"Taking my nephew too, sir," he said after a moment.

"Taking..."

Fowl had to admit bringing along his son's bodyguard would be a good idea.

"I'm certain he would be a valuable asset. He _is_ a Butler, after all."

"Yes, Major. No need to boast I am well aware of your family's reputation - it's the exact reason I hire you," Mr. Fowl said a little exasperatedly.

"Of course, sir." The Major smirked.

"Well then. Inform him we shall be leaving at 10pm."

The smile vanished. "Sir, are you really..."

"Krum has his reputation, Major. I must keep mine," Artemis said coldly.

There was no arguing with that tone.

"Yessir." The Major said reluctantly.

* * *

**_11:59 AM_**

"But he _does_ know it's a trap?" Butler asked, dumbstruck. Not only did they have less than twelve hours notice on the situation, Mr. Fowl was expecting miracles from them. Sure, they were Butlers, but this was verging on completely ridiculous.

"Blatantly," The Major transferred his irritation at his charge to his nephew. "He refuses to admit the idea is idiotic at best."

"Fatal at worst, eh?"

"Yes. That's why you're coming along."

"I'm _what_?" Butler blinked. His uncle appeared to usually dismiss him as an imbecile, who's lucky fluke made him the youngest ever graduate at Madam Ko's.

"Don't look so surprised, boy," The Major seemed to read his mind - as usual. "I do have a _little_ faith in your abilities."

"What about young Artemis? And Mrs. Fowl?"

"They will be guarded by the security team and stay home at the Manor."

Butler nodded. Although all he knew about this trip was that it was insanely stupid and that they would be walking directly into a trap, it must be bad if his uncle was trusting the security team with the Fowl family.

"I'll come," he said firmly.

"Good. It wasn't optional," The Major told him. "Now, I'll contact Scaler and see if he can lend us a team for tonight. Here's the protocol we'll follow..."

Butler rolled his eyes. As if a lifetime of training wasn't enough. _Here comes the lecture..._

* * *

_**11:03 PM**_

Originally, Fowl cut an impressive figure in his dark designer suit, matching hair smoothed back off his forehead, flanked by two massive guys, almost symmetrical in there appearance and position either side of their boss. They did not look friendly in the slightest. They were joined by a second team, something that Krum seemed unfazed by. It would soon become clear why, when the secondary security team turned on their hirers in favour of their real boss.

Impressive had been _originally_. Things had gone considerably downhill from there.

Now Fowl looked as scared as he felt, backing away, sheltered by the two massive hulks, one of which who was bent almost double, hand clamped over the steady flow of blood pouring his life out onto the dusty floor. The bullets had been returned of course. The bodies littering the floor were the reason they had time to escape. Borrowed time. They were practically walking dead men.

"Don't you_ ever_ take my bullets for me. _Ever_." The Major snarled, struggling to hold the subject of his ranting upright. The man rivalled him in size, which would have been quite a feat had they not been related.

"Technically it was... 's... bullet," his nephew coughed, more blood spattering his shirt.

"Then bloody-well leave my job to _me_ next time."

"Will...do."

Butler was starting to think that there might not _be_ a next time at this rate. His breathing was harsh and staggered, blood filling his mouth from a wound he couldn't place.

"Major, is there anything I could do?" Mr. Fowl stared pale-faced at his bodyguard. Under normal circumstances he would have regained his icy shell of composure and insisted The Major get them all away from here. _Now_.

However, injured employees, who were only bleeding profusely because you were still breathing, wasn't a normal circumstance, even for him. _Normally_, they all got out alive.

"Not at the moment sir, unless you can reach a phone. I think we may need to call in the professionals for this one."

"Professionals?" Artemis didn't quite catch on. After all, _they_ were the professionals - weren't they?

"Medical ones, sir."

"Ah...yes. Of course."

The Major dragged Butler upright and propped him into an alcove, shielding him from any attack and making sure he had Artemis covered too. They weren't out of the woods yet, so to speak. Actually, they were in an abandoned factory. Stupidly hard to guard in because of all the piping that could hide any number of snipers, and smashed in windows that would easily allow bullet through.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _The Major berated himself, albeit in much fouler language as he set about searching for a way out. His nephew succumbed slightly to the pain and oxygen debt, sliding down the wall desperately trying to stifle his coughs. If they were discovered now, it would be over for all three of them.

The car was barely 100 meters away, but that was easily long enough of a run for a sniper to get a shot off. There was nothing else to do. That car was their only escape, assuming it hadn't been tampered with, but, judging by the firefight they'd just escaped, they weren't meant to be alive to be attempting any escaping. A pipe clinked and The Major aimed his gun into the shadows but didn't fire yet. There was only one way to do this. He could not protect his charge and help his nephew at the same time. Said nephew knew that too. The Major gritted his teeth. What should be done here was obvious. He should ignore any emotion, family ties or morals and leave the younger Butler here, saving his charge. Following protocol.

Butler stared up at his uncle, understanding of the turmoil going on inside the older man's head, written in the gaze. "Get him out."

"You understand what this means." It wasn't a question.

"You would expect me to do the same," Butler felt saddened at that. He'd never get the chance to watch Artemis grow into a man like his father. Or more hopefully, not like his father. The boy would have to get a new bodyguard and Butler was mildly surprised that he felt a little jealous about that fact. Nothing he could do about it now. He'd made his decision when he'd moved faster than his uncle to cover Fowl Senior and taken the armour piercing bullet directly in the chest. The most annoying thing, if it could be called annoying in this situation, is that the wound wasn't categorically fatal. If he could get hospital treatment fast enough, there was chance that surgeons could remove the bullet lodged close enough to his left lung to make it bleed.

Shouting.

The loud voices got closer. Orders to find and shoot - no questions.

The Major snarled in frustration.

"Go," Butler growled through the pain. "Go now or we're all dead. Take my keys."

Butler rummaged in his pocket, hands shaking with adrenaline, rather than fear, as he tossed the set to his uncle.

"And this."

The Major watched as his nephew awkwardly drew his beloved gun from his shoulder holster, the normally meticulously cleaned surface now covered in its owner's blood. "Take this. Could be..." he coughed again, blood staining his teeth and words. "...useful. And I'd rather you had it than..."

The phrase_ "...than they took it as a trophy from my lifeless body" _didn't need to be said.

The Major reached forward and took it, grabbing the hand and pressing his own gun into the palm.

"And I'd rather you had this."

They locked eyes for a second, the younger pair widened in surprise. But there wasn't time for any more talking. Wasn't time for anything.

"Look out for Jules," he said quietly.

The Major nodded. "Give 'em hell before you're out."

Butler gave a grin that was more of a grimace and nodded back.

The Major turned away without looking back. Time for his job. Turning his pale charge away from the man bleeding on the floor, he placed a palm firmly on his back. Artemis visibly relaxed at the familiar gesture.

"When I say run, Artemis, run for the car. If I don't make it with you, you're on your own and I wish you the best of luck," he said calmly, pressing the bloodied spare keys into his charge's hand. There was a novelty keying on the set. _I'm not bald, I just have a wide parting_ - it read. Artemis found himself chuckling hysterically, doubtless this would be the youngest of the three Butlers' idea of a joke. Soon there'd be just two Butlers left at Fowl Manor. He should do something. Anything. For Juliet, for his son. For Butler. Artemis paused, The Major's hand jolting him slightly as he halted and tried to turn back.

"What about him?" he asked.

"We are born knowing the consequences of our job, sir."

Artemis swallowed. The Major's tone had been blunt. Rehearsed almost. It had been certain. Had warned him not to push the matter. Had told him that the man who had made sacrifices for him his entire life was about to make one of the biggest sacrifices of all. A member of his family. Artemis couldn't imagine doing that himself. Not for anyone. But he stopped. He had to look to his own life.

"Of course," he said, steeling himself, trying to convince himself that it would be a waste of the life the Butlers were willing to give for him if he didn't escape now.

More shouting, flashlights lighting up the air like physical scythes through their protective shield of darkness.

"Are you ready?"

Artemis breathed deeply, nodding.

"On my count then, sir...Three, two, one... run!" The Major said quietly, slipping forward with the silence and speed of a shadow. His charge was not so graceful, the resulting _clang_ of his loafer hitting a gas bottle had feet pounding their way.

_90 meters._

_80 meters_.

A gunshot. The Major tensed but nothing hit him. The floor exploded into dust.

_60 meters._

Louder gunshots. Closer ones.

_40 meters._ Another round of bullets but oddly they seemed not to touch the pair. No rounds of metal whistled past. Nothing thudded into their bodies with deadly accuracy.

_20 meters_ to go and the screaming started.

_Screaming?_ The Major slung the car door open and flung his charge in, turning to see the man doing the shooting, a bitter baring of the teeth lit up in the muzzle flash of his uncle's gun. The enemy were dropping like flies. The Major felt an uncharacteristic burst of pride as he leapt into the driver's seat. He started the engine. Bullets had stopped hitting the car. Bullets stopped altogether.

The silence of the car was eerie after the riot.

He started the car, the Bentley faithfully rumbling into action at a second's notice.

The Major risked a glance.

"What's wrong? We made it. Drive!" His charge panted, breathless after the short sprint.

The Major itched to obey the order. Then he saw the last standing man holding a gun to his nephews head, burning a line on his cheek with the hot snout of his gun. Butler was sat as upright as possible, jaw jutted defiantly, he wasn't answering the man's taunting. The Major made his decision.

* * *

**_11:13 PM_**

"You were lucky to get this far..."

He wasn't going to close his eyes. That would be cowardice. He stared with his own merciless dark eyes into those of his opponent. So this was how is was to end. It seemed somehow pathetic, and the stubborn side of him refused to back down. He lunged to his knees, hoping he could do something, anything to stop the inevitable bullet to the brain.

"... but I guess your luck just ran out," the man hissed.

Of course, you should never say something like that.

_Bang._

Melodramatic perhaps, but that was the sound. And, the man holding the gun dropped like a sack of potatoes. Butler blinked, he was still on his knees, yet the man that was about to be his killer was now lying below him on the floor, a generous coating of crimson spreading to surround them both. That was odd to say the least.

Butler bent forward and pulled his uncle's gun from the limp hand. He was about to start wondering how this role reversal had happened, when he was wrenched forward by the collar and slung towards the Fowl Bentley.

"Can you make it?" The Major asked, half-pushing half-dragging him to safety.

Butler nodded, no breath to spare on speaking on top of the lung injury and the shock.

_His uncle had come back for him._

Mr. Fowl opened the back door once they were a few meters away. The Major split off, diving into the front seat and Butler flung himself through the open back door, caring little at this moment of time about the blood that was gushing onto the upholstery. That would come later, when he would be scrubbing the stains with every ounce of his considerable elbow grease. Mr. Fowl slid away alarmed and disgusted at the bodily fluid seeping towards him.

The Major forced a wheel-spin out of the hefty car and floored them to safety just as Butler slammed the door.

"Get some compression on that chest of yours," he called over his shoulder, throwing a purpose made - albeit out of a tea-towel - compression-pad at his nephew.

Butler caught the cloth one handed and squeezed it against the hole in his chest until it hurt with practiced ease. Practised ease. There wasn't many people that could admit to that.

By some miracle, they had made it out alive again.

Some miracle, and a little bending of the rules.

So much for following protocol.

* * *

**Ta Da :)**

**Well there we are, another one. Finally.**

**Those of you who read my fics might just possibly know exactly what this is a part of. If not - it's from 'The That Look Incident'. I think that deserved a *self advertising alert* actually... never mind.**

**Now. I have a... r****equesty-thing.**

**Inspired by a review from _Cloudwalker_ (again to TTLI) if anybody can think of anything that was mentioned in any of the books, '_Colfer-esque quotes_' people have been calling them, anything from a sentence to a few words that you think I could imagine into a story, please feel free to tell me and I'll do my best to get it written into a Lil' Rem' or even a chaptered-fic and put up on here sometime before the next century :)**

**It doesn't have to be much. I can work with very little. My version of The Major sprung up from his five seconds of fame in The Arctic Incident. And I made this Lil' Rem' from a two sentence reference from TTLI which was made from a two sentence reference from The Atlantis Complex... complicated much? Nah. I call it my runaway imagination.**

**Preferably at least one Butler could be involved in anything you guys rustle up, but I'm sure I could write the big guys into pretty much anything :D**

**Anyhoo. Any reviews/feedback/suggestions or anything would be great :)**

**Thankshu for reading,**

**Wolfy**  
**ooo**  
** O **


	14. Kicking Clouds

**Hellar there :) Yes, it's me. Long time no see, eh? No excuses really. I'm trying to finish off writing a new longery story like I do sometimes but its crunching it's way along like a van with the handbrake half-on so we'll see how that goes.**

**(Yes, trust me, vans can go with handbrakes still half-on, just very slowly and it's bad for them.).**

* * *

He had given up on sneaking out before she woke up.

It never turned out well. If she didn't chase after him barefoot down the drive in nothing but one of his t-shirts billowing and catching the wind behind her, then he'd be subject to a hundred phonecalls cursing him and demanding he came back _this instant_.

He'd drop it in the footwell of the passenger seat and let it buzz itself into silence.

Get rid of the temptation to press the green button, because to try to reach it would be stupid, even with _his_ ridiculously long arms. And because trying to drive and trying to placate people never worked out well.

So she'd leave him voice-messages. Angry ones. Ones that called him every name under the sun that someone like her could think of. Maybe he'd listen to those. He probably deserved some of them.

_Why did you go? You always go without saying goodbye. You're supposed to say goodbye. That's what a good guy would do. You're horrible. Come back right now you stupid..._

They always made him smile. She was always funnier when she was trying to be cross.

But then would come the next wave. The ones where her voice would break and she'd apologise and say she hadn't meant any of what she'd said. It was then that he thought that he shouldn't have helped her memorise his number.

_I'm so so sorry. Please don't hate me. I didn't mean it. I didn't. You're not horrible. You're the best. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please just come back? Please please please..._

He'd stopped listening to those. That wasn't a good idea either. You did _not_ want to turn up at the manor looking like you'd just had onions rubbed in your face. Not with an uncle like his anyway.

"_Pull yourself together man. You're pathetic. I told you going back every other week was a daft idea. You just need to cut her out..."_

"_I can't do that! It's been nearly four years, neither of us can just cut a bond like that!"_

"_Well you should! You've never lived with her for more than a few weeks at a time anyway. She should be used to you leaving her behind."_

"_That's different. That's... That was my old job. This one's different. She thinks... She thinks Little Artemis is replacing her. That I'll just forget about her as soon as the baby's born."_

"_And so you should. Remember your training. Nothing is to get in the way of your job. You've got a charge now. He or she takes the place of __**her**__ - and anyone else. If you can't do that then you aren't fit to be a Butler."_

Domovoi had got in trouble that night. Said some things he really shouldn't. Been put right back in his place. Very firmly. Let himself be, if he was honest, because his uncle was right. He knew his job, he knew his purpose. Knew what he had been working for his entire life. Funny, how one girl can put a massive dent of uncertainty into that solid shield of confidence.

So nowadays he didn't just leave.

He said goodbye properly.

* * *

_1st September, 4:30am_

His alarm beeped once and he was awake enough to silence it before the second. He dressed quickly, grabbed the pre-packed bag. There wasn't much left here now anyway. Just a spare change of clothes because he usually ended up needing them when he stayed over.

He checked his watch. In all reality, he didn't even need to be up for another two hours. Mrs. Fowl was due to be induced tomorrow. Little Artemis was late. Domovoi could be called out at any time. She'd refused to go into hospital so far, despite her husband's protests. The soon-to-be bodyguard of the soon-to-be Fowl heir couldn't say he wasn't glad about the woman's determination to stay at home as long as possible. It at least meant he didn't have to stand guard over The Sister's of Mercy maternity ward a day longer than he had to. Meant he didn't have to leave _her_ a day earlier than he had to.

He placed a palm on the doorhandle, pausing for a second. He had time to spare. Enough time. Probably a good thing. He would probably need it. She preferred long goodbyes.

She was scowling in her sleep. He smiled softly. He'd not bestow such a look of fondness on anyone else. Wouldn't let anyone else see that look of affection. He brushed her hair off her face and before he had even finished the sweep her hand had flown up and grabbed his thumb in a vice grip. That made him proud. And annoyed. He could not start letting himself get beaten by her. She would never let him live it down.

"What're you doing?" she grumbled.

"Nothing," he said gruffly, pulling his hand away.

"You's soft you are," she mumbled.

"It's 'you _are_ soft'," he corrected her English slightly. "And besides, I'm not."

She looked at him frankly. "You is."

"Are," he righted automatically.

"Ha. You sayed it!" she laughed.

"Said. And no, I meant it's _are_ not _is_... ah never mind."

"Well then _are _you going now?"

No point in asking, she already knew he was leaving.

"Yes," he admitted.

No point in lying, she already knew he was leaving.

"When will you be back?"

This was routine. He sighed. "You know I don't know that."

She rolled her eyes, sitting up in bed.

"Can I see the baby when it's born?"

"Not straight away I don't think, but I'll let you see him or her someday."

"Soon?"

"Hopefully."

"_Hopefully_ because then you'll see me soon?" she fished hopefully.

He smiled. "You got me. Yes."

"Do you have to go _now_...?"

"Or...?"

"_Or _can you shows me how to do that thing again?"

"Do you promise to practice it?"

She grinned, nodding like a mad thing. "Yes, yes, yes!"

He checked his watch. Well over an hour before he had to set off. He glanced at her eager face.

"Alright then, go get your shoes on."

She leapt of the bed with a thud.

"_Quietly!_"

* * *

_5:03am_

They walked out into the garden together. The height difference highlighted by the slowly rising sun peaking over the horizon. It was almost comical, the way she hung off his wrist as she held his hand, swinging his arm. He lifted her up and held her, arm outstretched, clinging to his forearm like a capuchin to a treetrunk. A little over 15kg. Not even a proper bicep curling weight. She laughed, pulling herself up chin-up style on his arm and flipping backwards, swinging legs through arms in a tangle of limbs.

They reached the pit and he deposited her gently on the sand, shrugging his bag off the other shoulder less lightly.

She'd already kicked her trainers off and was bouncing on her feet impatiently.

"Come on Dom, hurry's up."

Domovoi sat on the edge of the wooden box and untied his heavy boots. She climbed onto his shoulders, making the most of his lack of height by spitting on his head and mock-polishing it.

"Oi - get off!" he growled. But the rebuke held no malice and he grabbed her, rolling her into the sand and covering them both in the tiny grains. He was always careful not to crush her. He easily could. She laughed, pummelling his chest and giggling like, well, like a little girl.

He got up. "Now come on, what do you remember?"

She jumped up and proudly stood on the balls of her feet, spinning on the spot and kicking him right in the shin. He feigned agony but pushed her carefully with one finger, making her fall on her backside with an '_oof'_.

"See, your balance isn't right yet," he told her, hauling her up. "You have to bend your knees more, lower your centre of gravity."

Soon they were both spinning and kicking, the older never making contact, the younger doing her best to boot seven bells out of him.

Eventually the sun came up fully and they stopped, sitting together in the comfortable silence of siblingship. The light blazed off them, sharp eyes glinting in the rays.

"You know what Jules?" Domovoi said, draping an arm over her shoulders.

"What?" she asked, snuggling into his shirt and yawning. She shivered slightly and he squeezed her close. It was still early. The first day of September, barely the end of summer but the autumn chill was starting to creep in.

"I think you're the best four-year-old spinning kicker in the world."

"Really?" she asked, gazing up at him.

"Yeah, I do," he said honestly.

"Well you know what Dom?"

"What?" he asked, eyebrow quirked. _This should be interesting._

"I think you're the best _just-plain-old_ spinning kicker in the world."

"Oi you cheeky little..."

He tickled her into submission.

"OK! OK! You is the bestest big brother ever, ever, ever!"

"And you're the best little sister ever, ever, ever."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Even if Little Artemis is a girl."

Domovoi froze, a thought striking him. "Is this why you're acting so weird? You think the baby will be like a younger sibling?"

"Maybe..." she shrugged, turning away slightly. Her body-language said everything.

"Well I promise Artemis will never replace you. Even if Artemis is a girl."

His phone buzzed.

"Promise?" she perked up.

He ignored the drone of vibrations.

"Juliet I promise that no matter what, you will always be my little sister and that makes you more important than anyone else in the world."

His phone hummed again.

"Even Artemis?"

He should get that.

"Even Artemis."

Another buzz.

"I'll even be your favourite when the baby's here?"

He _really _should get that.

"Yes. Always."

Juliet hugged him tightly as if she would never let go. He ruffled her hair and rootled in his pocket.

"Now I need to get this or uncle will kill me."

He flipped open the phone. "Yes?"

"What took you, boy? _Three_ bloody rings! Where are you?"

"I'm not meant to be there for another half an hour," Domovoi frowned, checking his watch.

"That's not what I asked," The Major growled. "How far are you from the hospital?"

Domovoi calculated it quickly. Legally? Maybe, fifteen minuets. Less legally? Well, that was a different story...

"Missus Fowl has gone into labour. Get your backside to that ward boy!"

"Yes sir," he rattled out, resisting the urge to snap a salute.

"You're going to be a Fowl's bodyguard, Domovoi. Make me proud."

"Yes Uncle," he said less formally.

"Hi Uncle!" Juliet piped up, pressing her head against the other side of the mobile.

"I might have known you were _there_," The Major sighed, a rush of static on the other end of the line.

"'Course I'm here. Where else would I be?" Juliet said, missing the point exactly. It was not _her_ that wasn't meant to be at the lodge, it was her brother.

"Hello Juliet," The Major sighed. "It's nice to hear you seem to be back to your usual irksome self."

Juliet grinned. Her uncle's approval meant almost as much to her as it did to her brother. Even if 'irksome' wasn't a compliment in many people's eyes.

"Now come on, lad," The Major spoke to the elder Butler sibling. "Get going or she'll have had it already."

And so this time, dressed in her pyjamas - one of her brother's old t-shirts tied up with a dressing gown cord - Juliet stood at the end of the lodge's drive and waved her brother off.

* * *

_8.37pm_

She waited by the phone, not ringing it. _Waiting._ Like he'd said. And then, finally, after the sun had made its way across the sky and hidden behind the hills, the phone rang.

And her brother said something fantastic.

"Jules," he told her. "Little Artemis is a boy."

"What's he like?" she asked excitedly.

"Um... small?"

"As small as I was?"

"Smaller, even though he's late. You were a big muscley baby like I was, Jules. Because you're a Butler."

"And because I'm you're little sister?"

"Yes Jules. And you always will be," he sighed exasperatedly.

There was talking she couldn't quite catch on the other end of the line and her brother became distant for a second. He needed to go. She should let him.

"You've gotta go now?"

"Yeah, I've got to go now. But I'll be back."

She was too young to get the _'Terminator'_ reference that made _him _smile, but she grinned anyway for her own reason.

Her big brother was going now, but he'd be back soon.

"Love you, Dom."

"At-ah. What did I say about that?" he warned.

"Not to call you it unless you say I can," Juliet rattled off.

"Yup. 'Cause who's the _only one_ who can call me that?"

"Me."

"That's right. Night Jules."

"Night bro."

"That's better," he said and put the phone down.

Juliet smiled. He was right. It was better. She was better. Everything was much better now.

She bounced up the stairs to her room. She hadn't really thought about Little Artemis being a boy. Too obsessed with the possibility of losing her big bro to another lil' sis figure.

_Well,_ she thought, an exciting thought striking her. _If the baby is sort of Dom's little brother now, I guess that makes me a big sister._

Every cloud had a silver lining.

* * *

**So what are we thinking?**

**Hands up who thought I'd had a head transplant and decided Butler needed a girlfriend? Hands up who guessed it was Jules all along?**

**Ha ha - yeah I have a severe aversion to Butler spending any of his limited affection on anyone other than family...**

**Anyhoo, not my best ficlety-thing methinks, but its a sort of stepping stone to get me warmed up for writing the rest of this new bigger story, which I'm getting you guys all interested about and will probably not appear till sometime nearer the other side of Christmas.**

**Ah well.**

**Hope you're all enjoying the summer. Or winter if you're in the southern half of the world of course...**

**Wolfy  
****ooo  
**** O**


	15. The Preview

**Firstly, I have something to say/laugh at. **

**In response to an amusing review I got from an anonymous reviewer in regards to the lack of fairies in my fics and, I quote, me getting a 'creative life' for myself.**

**Please feel free to skip to the snippet in store for all you other awesome guys :)**

**Right, yes so far this set of stories have no fairies in them... yet. Maybe they will at some point, but then again, maybe they won't. I'd like to say particularly, "Fowlobsessed99" - I need to get a life, eh? And you don't? Chill out! So there's no fairies. So what? There's plenty of other fics out there that have **_**loads**_** of fairies in them. Yet you felt the need to hunt out fics without them, simply to complain about the lack of them. Be 'creative' yourself. Go find them.**

**And while you're at it, if you're gonna flame, leave a name, else I have to publically humiliate you rather than just through a PM. Sound good, hmm?**

**Anyhoo, if you've come back and read this then you REALLY need to 'get a life' I guess. **

**Maybe try following this one: Don't like, don't read.**

**Enough of that, it's taken up far too much space to moan on about, so to the rest of you wonderful reader-y people, here's something you might be interested in. WARNING... It has no fairies in it :P**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing and whatnot. Onwards.**

* * *

The end of the show brought the usual pandemonium as people scrambled from their seats into the long crushes and queues for the exits.

It was a health and safety nightmare.

One carelessly discarded cigarette and the whole place would go up in flames with the audience trapped inside, the only exits being two double doors to the lobby and one at the end of a backstage corridor to the outside world. The two bodyguards would have been tempted to use that option, if they had not already tried it out whilst staking out the theatre and found it to set off all the fire alarms on the building and any working sprinklers when opened.

The Major was shifting from foot to foot, his own charge's irritation at the delay rubbing off onto him, only making his job harder. Butler ignored them instead checking for danger, eyes never pausing for an instant unless he saw a possible threat. Artemis Junior was chatting quite animatedly to his mother about the night's show which they had come to see as a celebration of Mr. Fowl's return from, and success in, closing an expensive deal. One that he would have been fighting for with another big name in the underworld, Carker, for a long time in the usual quick fire world of illegal deals. Except that something had happened to The Carker Corporation just a few weeks before the big date. Something that Fowl Industries had had a lot to do with.

Neither of the serving Butlers were very much pleased by their employer's decision to have a family outing just days after the end of all this , they thought it best to wait until Carker's temper had died down a bit. But they were Butlers. So they said nothing.

"Check the rafters. I'll keep an eye on the crowd." The Major ordered his nephew under his breath.

Butler obeyed. Although it was exceedingly annoying being bossed around all the time by his uncle both of them had to admit that having two pairs of eyes made their nigh-impossible job much easier. Butler scanned the upper level they had just left their private box from. Most of the elaborate balconies were now empty, a few people were sensibly waiting out the queues, unlike the impatient Mr. Fowl who was insistent in the fact that if they didn't leave immediately they would lose their table at the posh diner they were scheduled for next.

Even the strict timekeeper The Major knew that no restaurant owner with half an inkling of who the Fowls were would refuse to serve them. Butler was just checking the last box when he saw it.

The glint of metal.

Illuminated for the shortest of moments by the roving stage light. Even though he was only half sure he had seen it, he stepped into the line of possible fire without a second thought, shielding Angeline and little Artemis with his considerable bulk.

"Possible..." he began to his uncle before the small explosion of gunpowder blocked out the rest of his words.

The small rounded lump of metal torpedoed its way past his upper arm, taking a fair amount of flesh with it, causing considerable amount of pain on his behalf and considerable amount of screaming by nearly everyone else in the vicinity. Managing not to swear he drew his own weapon awkwardly with his left hand and pointed it into the shadows above.

"Leave it. Let's just get the charges out before the police get here. We can deal with him later," the only other calm person in the room said quietly.

Leaving the theatre's own bumbling security force to deal with the intruder Butler shielded the Fowls from behind as The Major cleared the way ahead through the screaming chaos, down the backstage corridor and into the starry night. The sprinklers and alarms went off, adding spectacularly to the pandemonium. Butler blocked out the distractions, focusing on guarding his charges.

It wasn't the first bullet he had taken for the Fowls. And no doubt it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

**Right. I apologise for the fact that this is not my normal kinda update for this fic-set and also for the fact that there seems to be more Author's Note than Lil' Rem' in this chapter but there is a very good reason for it.**

**Well. I say _very_. Some of you might think it is.**

**This little chapter is a preview to my next big fic which should be coming up soon :D I know, I know. I've been going on about this forever but I finally got down to writing the rest of it. It needs editing and I know I normally have a new chapter up every day but that probably won't be happening this time because of college and stuff this time but I'll try get the chapters edited and up with no more than a week between each chappie.**

**I think I better mention, just in case it really bothers anyone, if you're going to read it, you will have to put up with my nearing-on hero-worship of the Butlers and the (perhaps slightly OC) personalities they seem to have slipped into in the time I haven't written their adventures down.**

**Well, here we go. Chapter One of 'In the Path of Bullets' will hopefully be up sometime tomorrow... or rather later today considering how late it is!**

**Wolfy  
****ooo  
**** O**


	16. Funny Sort of Plungers

**Hellar there! Yup, back again.**

**Happy New Year!**

**It's not the next massive story, but it's something to be going on with.**

**This mostly occurred because I've been listening to Arctic Incident as an audiobook. Which may be a kind of lazy, but I quite like the Irish accents Nathaniel Parker does for Artemis and Butler. They're quite cool. Plus it means I can read with my eyes shut :)**

* * *

**Funny Sort of Plungers**

"D'Arvit! I told you he'd need more sedative than that!"

Was the first thing Butler heard since Captain Short had...

Suddenly remembering what had happened, he resisted the urge to leap up immediately and allowed training to take over, using his senses to explore his surroundings and decide whether or not it was a good idea to reveal himself to be a threat, or whether that would get him - and so in the long run his principal - killed.

Quickly deciding there was only two other beings in the room with him and their breathing was rapid enough to be fairies of some sort - and nervous ones at that - he cracked open his eyes a little.

"Go get me more tranqs before things get ugly in here!" yelled the sprite stood before him, his green complexion paling slightly to an off-lime as Butler opened his eyes properly."And tell Foaly to get his plunger-thingies in here - pronto."

The second male, possibly an elf, sprinted from the room. The room that was, incidentally, an Artemis-free zone.

"Where's Artemis, fairy?" Butler growled, calculating whether he would be able to reach the door before the fairy in question got him with anything potentially problematic. The answer there was probably_ 'yes'_, but where he would go after that, he didn't know. The presence of the fairies told him he was in their territory - possibly even underground. He went to grab the sprite by his lapels but something jangled and his arms remained behind him, attached to whatever he was slumped against.

"Remain calm, Mudman, and yourself and your erm… charge, will not come to any harm," the sprite said as forcefully as he could, powering up his buzz-baton as he spoke.

Butler ignored the order, instead testing the chains that secured his wrists to the standard fairy prison bench behind him. They creaked slightly. He yanked at them again.

"If you do not remain seated I will be forced to resort to restraining methods that may prove both harmful and painful," the officer told him, with only a slight jitter as he extended his buzz-baton and held it out threateningly.

Butler stopped what he was doing to stare at the officer in disdain, thoroughly terrifying the sprite.

_"Harmful?"_ Butler snorted, pulling harder on the handcuffs. "You must be joking..."

Although he did not particularly _want_ to get shocked by a buzz-baton, it was essential he kept to his 'invincible' reputation. Besides, he'd been through worse in Madame Ko's training alone. It would take more than a little tingle of electricity to stop him reaching his principal.

Luckily for Butler, just as the sprite was about to buzz him, another LEP officer entered the room. Only this one was slightly cockier than the first.

"I don't advise you to continue attempting to free yourself. You may be big, but those cuffs are designed to constrain trolls."

"I've beaten trolls before," Butler said, completely deadpan.

Not entirely true. He'd beaten _a _troll in the past - and with a little help at that. Nevertheless, these fairies had undoubtedly heard the - probably over-exaggerated - accounts of the Fowl Manor Siege from Trouble Kelp's Retrieval Squad and, as he smirked at their expressions, the statement had the desired effect on his audience. They looked at each other in slight alarm and Butler renewed his efforts.

"Those cuffs are stronger than trolls mudman," the cocky one continued. Less so now. And seemingly more to assure the fact to himself than to Butler.

"Maybe. But is the bench?" Butler asked rhetorically and, with one quick wrench of focussed energy, he pulled one cuff upwards and freed one of the metal bars from the floor. The two officers fled from the room, locking the door behind them as Butler tore the second cuff's bindings the same way. He lurched to his feet, smacking his head dizzyingly on the ceiling and shaking away the stars like an angry bear ridding its ears of bees.

The giant bodyguard leapt forward and heaved a shouldering into the door. It held. Just. He tried a second time, but the door opened inwards and the hinges, although smaller than cell-door aboveground, were just as strong. He stopped and dragged the bench over to the door.

"Where. Is. Artemis?" he repeated slowly to the metal, knowing that his quarry were just on the other side.

The officers looked at each other. Technically they were now at deadlock. They could not open the door to knock him out and he couldn't get out to knock _them_ out.

_Theoretically._

"We could open the food hatch and try dart him through there," the spite whispered.

"But how many could we get him with? He took three last time and he's up now."

"What about the _mesmer _then?"

"We can't get proper eye-contact through the door and Captain Short says he's a bugger to _mesmer_ at the best of times."

"Well can't do anything else really," the sprite said, sliding back the viewing hatch.

Luckily for them, at that moment a centaur came around the corner holding what appeared to be a pair of red drain plungers attached to a box via a complicated-looking set of wires.

"Ah I see you've had a little issue with the mudmountain," Foaly snickered, noticing the predicament. "Hate to be a 'told-you-so' but I_ said_ you should've kept him under the _mesmer_. I knew those sedatives wouldn't be enough to..."

"Stow it, Foaly," the elfin officer snapped. "We've got bigger problems."

"Such as...?" Foaly asked innocently.

"Such _as_," fumed the officer. "In case it has escaped your notice, we've got a mudtroll we can't subdue without letting out."

"Fair enough. Just let him out and get him then."

_Go on. Try it, _Butler thought, glaring through the recently uncovered glass square in the door.

Through it, he could see a corridor leading to more cells. Possibly containing Artemis. There wasn't much chance of the sedatives working faster than him reaching the first door. Or the second. Or the third. He could have the whole row checked before they could even _begin_ bringing him back under some form of limited control.

"Move over, soliders," Foaly sighed, sidling up to the door. "Butler. That_ is_ your name, right?"

Butler didn't answer, instead his brain was calculating how he could turn the hindrance of being attached to the prison bench into an advantage by using it as a weapon. More officers were gathering outside now, loading tranquilliser-guns and powering up buzz-batons, eager for a scuffle. They obviously hadn't seen him being brought in, contained in the same kind of hover-cage used to transport trolls.

Foaly tried to reason with him. "If we find that you're not guilty of what we're looking for then you'll wake up tomorrow with no memory of the event. As you would have, had_ somebody_ not underestimated the amount of sedative needed to keep you in la-la land."

The bodyguard didn't bother to explain to the centaur that when Butlers slept, they did _not_ go to this _'la-la land'_, drugged or not.

"And Artemis?" he demanded.

"Will be fine. You have my word."

"Really. Your _word_. Well _now_ I'm considering it," Butler muttered sarcastically, testing the door with his shoulder. It groaned encouragingly. Or unnervingly, depending on what side of it you were on.

"Hey," Foaly snorted. "Take it or leave it, Mudman. You're a couple of miles underground – where're you gonna go?"

It was a fair point. And one that Butler had already considered himself. Despite his obvious size, training and experience, he was never going to have the upper-hand here as he had back on his own home-turf, so to speak.

"Fine. Show me Artemis and I'll come quietly," he bargained.

Foaly sighed. "Get me a monitor with the Mudboy on it."

A computer screen on the cell wall behind Butler flicked on and a live feed from the cell that Artemis was in showed the boy slumped in a chair. Butler relaxed slightly. His charge was obviously unconscious, but seemed to be breathing steadily.

However, he knew just how well that just about _anything_ could be faked. Especially with fairy technology.

"See? He's fine."

"I don't want to see a picture, pony-boy," Butler growled. "I need to see _him _before I agree to anything that doesn't involve me breaking things."

"Fine. Did anyone ever tell you you're a d'arvitting stubborn ogre," Foaly grumbled, turning away from the door and reaching for a communicator. "And shut that hatch - I don't want him knowing where we're keeping Fowl."

In the next five minutes, staring at solid metal, Butler deduced that his picks would not be any use even if he could use them to the best of his ability with his hands tied to the bench. It was locked entirely from the outside, with no keyhole or hinges to tamper with on the inside of the door.

"Here," Foaly's voiced came from outside. "One _mesmer_ised mudboy, alive and well."

Two officers stood either-side of Artemis, who looked, in Butler's opinion, _stoned -_ nevermind_ mesmer_ed. Other than that, he seemed unhurt, was breathing normally and not bleeding in any visible way. That was as good as he was going to get for now. And Juliet had recovered fully from her _mesmer_ing so there was no threat of lasting damage to his charge's unresponsiveness.

"Good," Butler grunted reluctantly. "Keep it that way."

"You'll come out quietly now?" Foaly asked, closing the hatch again as Artemis was lead away.

"Yes," Butler said simply. There was a chance he could catch up with the officers who had Artemis if they let him out now. But then again, that probably wouldn't end well for either of them.

"Good," Foaly grinned. "Right, let him out, boys."

A dozen officers drew tranquillising guns as the jail door was opened and Butler allowed them, grudgingly, to enter and detach him from the bench. They then re-attach the cuffs to a set of massive iron weights used to prevent trolls from_ 'doing a runner'_, so to speak. Massive iron weights that Butler was fairly sure he bench pressed at least double of back in the manor gym. Not that he told _them_ that.

He complied anyway, sitting with his back against the wall as Foaly approached him with the plungers.

"Now stay still mud-guy and this won't hurt a bit..." Foaly placed the RetImager over his eyes.

Now he couldn't see. But that was about all that had changed. After a few seconds of staring at the rubber and listening to Foaly twiddling with cables, Butler had to ask.

"What was that supposed to do?"

The centaur whinnied in surprise.

"Frond! It was meant to knock you out actually. Hang on..."

A sharp and not-so-gentle stab on the back of his hand told him he'd been darted with a tranquilliser. Still nothing.

"Still with us?"

"Yup," Butler muttered.

Another sharp scratch.

"I assume you've been under sedation before?"

_Not many times if you class 'sedation' as voluntarily,_ Butler thought, but he nodded anyway.

"My eyes better still be in my head when you've finished with those plungers, pony-boy," he growled.

"I reckon you and Julius would get on well, mudman," Foaly told him huffily. "Just…er… start counting, or something."

Butler didn't count, but at the third jab of a tranq-dart the darkness began to become more than just the light being blocked out by the plungers and he slumped against the wall slightly. The machine whirred and hummed, Butler's hearing zoning in and out with the drones until he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**This, in case you didn't know/guess, is what I think happened to Butler when Foaly attacked him with the plungers... I mean RetImager.**

**Anyhoo, hope you liked it :)**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	17. The Sneak Peak Preview

**I'm back! Well sorta anyway. Technically I never went anywhere I just haven't put anything up for a while. Yeah. Sorry about that.**

**This, as with another Lil Rem, is a preview to my next big fic. Just to give you an idea of what it's about without actually giving you an idea of what it's about.**

**WARNINGS: It's not a cheerful chapter. Sorry. Some mild swearing. Or at least what I consider mild. No F's or anything, anyway :)**

* * *

**FOWL MANOR, DUBLIN, IRELAND, FOUR YEARS AGO – THE PAST**

The first few hours after events like this were always the worst. Butler knew that from a sad amount of experience in the matter.

The sinking of the Fowl Star had hit the headlines hard, but nowhere near as hard as it had hit the families_ behind_ the story. Hierarchy forgotten, the two Fowls and two Butlers had sat around the television for the rest of the evening waiting for news. The hours passed in a blur of reporters and complicated words.

_Assassination. Mafia. No comment. No survivors. No warning. _

**_No._**

The word darkened Artemis's world. This couldn't happen. But it had. Too shocked even to cry, he had mumbled his excuses and retreated to his room after the subdued dinner.

His Father, his ruler, was gone.

So perhaps Artemis Senior had not been a _perfect_ role model, not the perfect father-figure either, he had still been his Father. The realisation hit him. He was now the man of the household. Responsibility piled upon his slender shoulders.

_Look after your mother, but don't let her squander the family fortune!_

Those had been the last words Artemis Fowl Senior had spoken to his son. Not _'Good-Bye'_ or _'I'll miss you'_, _'Be good'_ or any other way of conveying love. The _'family fortune'_. The words were clearly not spoken in order of priority, at least in his father's view.

There wasn't much left to look after now, anyway.

Tears fell freely as he sat on his bed, flopping forwards onto the soft duvet the maid had changed that morning and sobbed.

_Why?_

Artemis couldn't pretend his Father was a perfect man, but this had been his first_ legal_ venture in years. The irony hurt. It all hurt.

And so the part of Artemis that was the genius, stepped in to protect the part that was the child. He sat up and sniffed, wiping his face furiously and changing into his pyjamas. He hadn't been tucked in to bed for years now, but suddenly felt the need to cry out for someone to hug him goodnight and turn out the light for him. He quashed the idea, flicking it off himself and climbing under the covers.

Everyone reacts differently to grief.

The second the news was verified Butler became the solid rock everyone needed but no-one wanted to be. He checked the details over and over, eyes never leaving the news program, now showing on most of the manor's TVs, as he went into a separate room and rang through the appropriate numbers. 'Appropriate' being the authorities, the rescue teams, anyone he knew that might be in the area, or might even have been involved in the attack itself. Although he doubted the latter. Everyone knew the Butlers guarded the Fowls. And if you knew the Butlers, you knew not to mess with a Fowl.

Angeline broke down, sobbing hysterically with every passing hour and every change the news broadcasted.

_No survivors found yet… a number bodies have been found…_

It was the same as what Butler was hearing from his own sources.

_We haven't found anyone. Call back later. We're sorry._

'Sorry' didn't cover it.

Eventually, unable to take any more, the lady of the manor was taken to her room. Waited on hand a foot by the twenty or so maids that she employed and cried herself to sleep.

It was only after Butler had phoned everyone he could think of and doubled the security on the manor, including spoken with Harson, the normally contrary head of manor security, who either realised that now was not the time to be arguing, or had shut up at the look in Butler's eyes, that he allowed himself to climb the stairs slowly. He stopped outside Artemis's room, knocking very softly. There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one. It was past midnight, after all.

He entered silently and crossed the room to check the bundle of covers was still breathing. He untucked the top of them gently, revealing the pale face of Artemis Fowl Junior. The boy's features scrunched at the cold air touching his face.

"F… father?" he murmured.

Butler swallowed. "No, Artemis. It's me, Butler."

But the boy didn't answer, instead slipping back into a deeper sleep and Butler left as quietly as he had come in. He bypassed his own room and listened at the next door. There was a line of light seeping under the door and he leant his head against the wood, knocking quietly.

"Jules? Can I come in?"

"G' 'way," came the muffled answer.

Taking this expected response as an invitation he entered anyway, stooping slightly under the doorway. She was huddled in the corner of her bed, pressed into the corners of the wall. Security. Nothing could attack her without her seeing it. He had seen her do the same after a nightmare. The whole thing was a nightmare. Only that it wasn't a dream.

He joined her, his weight leaning her involuntarily towards him.

"Why, Dom?" she sniffed after a few seconds, giving in and pressing her face against his shoulder. "Why?"

"These things happen, Jules…" he started gently, not even bothering to reprimand her on the use of his first name.

"No they don't!" she said defiantly. "No-one else's bloody uncle gets blown-up on some bloody boat."

"Juliet…"

"No! Why do bodyguards just give their lives up for some posh person who doesn't even give a flying shit about them?"

"We don't, Jules," Butler sighed, deciding to let the swearing slide too, under the circumstances.

"Yes you do! What's the point of 'Protect the Principle'? To make sure the Fowls don't die. What were you doing before you came to me? Dealing with the Fowls' problems. Why is Uncle dead? All because of the stupid Fowls and their stupid money."

"He might not be..."

"Oh come on, Dom. You know he is too. If Mister Fowl is gone then so is Uncle. He wouldn't let his precious charge get hurt without dying first."

"Maybe. But Mister Fowl wasn't just a boss. You know that," Butler told her. "Uncle's been with him since he was born. Same as me and Little Artemis."

"And would _you _die for _him?_" she asked, scooting away from his bulk angrily. "_Because_ of him?"

"Yes." her brother answered simply and she turned her tearstained face away. "It's what I've been trained for my entire life. To protect my principle at all costs. And yes, yes I would die for the Fowls. But not… not if me putting myself in danger for them would put _you_ in danger yourself."

She turned back, shocked.

"At least, not if there was any other way," her brother said, hugging her. "Because I know my lil sis can look after herself, right?"

Juliet sniffed and nodded into his chest.

"Family still comes first," he said quietly. "Even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

The answer seemed to comfort her somewhat and she didn't speak again.

"Don't give up hope yet," he whispered, and she nestled into the solid, comforting warmth she had associated with safety her whole life.

Butler stayed until she was asleep, then gently tucked her covers round her and left her lava lamp on. The label on the wire informed his that it was safe to leave on for up to eight hours at a time and Juliet would be up before then. She was a true Butler. She never slept longer than she needed.

He was the only one awake in the manor. All Butlers were supposed to be able to force themselves to sleep quickly, in case there was little opportunity for resting time and every second was precious.

But tonight he couldn't.

Padding back downstairs he pushed open one of a set of double-doors and flicked the lights to the gym on, its familiar smell of hard-work welcoming him. He switched on the TV fixed to the wall in the vague hope that the news would be good.

It inevitably wasn't.

He crossed over the sprung wooden floor silently to his own equipment and sat on a bench, staring at his uncle's.

"_Don't let your guard down whilst I'm gone. Just because we're going legal this time doesn't mean the family isn't a target,"_ The Major had told him seriously, as they sparred last week before he and Mr. Fowl had left the Dublin port for Russia on the _Fowl Star_.

"_Yes Uncle,"_ he had replied, hiding his exasperation in a block and following it up with a spear to the stomach - blocked by The Major of course.

As if he didn't know what his uncle was telling him already. But it was The Major's way of showing his dominance, giving instructions. He was the alpha no matter how many times his nephew beat him in their training. And Butler thought it gave his uncle some comfort to tell him what to do. Just to make sure that he wouldn't forget.

Now he had to make his own decisions completely. Not that he didn't anyway, but the constant reminders of his training that had kept him alert for so long would be gone.

No. He wouldn't believe the proud figure of his uncle wouldn't be returning until he had proof. Solid proof. And that would be either in the form of a phonecall from the man himself, or the identifying of a body for the authorities.

A seasoned body-identifier, he shook away phantom images of what that experience would probably be like and stood, trudging over to one of the hanging punch-bags.

For a while the only sounds that came were the solid _thwaks _of skin on material and in the background, the 24hour news channel playing over and over again.

That was the first day.

* * *

**Like I said, this is a section of the fifth chapter of my next big fic. I'm nervous to put it up because the ending isn't finished yet and I never normally post before I have at least all of the plot done. But I've had the start written for so long I'm getting impatient to let you have it, which probably isn't a good thing but ah well.**

**I'd probably do once or twice a week updates for a change rather than once a day like I normally do, just to make sure I get the end finished before I get to it.**

**What do you think? Want it? I promise it isn't all this miserable - honest!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
**** O**


	18. The Theory of Relatedness

**Well, the weather is not so good over here for summer at the moment. Which at least means I don't feel guilty sitting inside writing FanFics all day. Despite the fact that I should get a summer job rather than writing stuff I don't get money for... Ho-Hum. Nevermind.**

**WARNINGS: Mild Swearing.**

**NO SPOILERS - just a quote from the first chapter of_ Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian_, which I'm fairly sure everyone has already read, even if you don't have the book yet, coupled with some information about a certain book from the first chapter of _Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex_.**

_"Have you heard of the theory of relativity?"_

_Artemis blinked. "Is this a joke? I have travelled through time, Doctor. I think I know a little something about relativity."_

_"No. Not that theory; my theory of relativity proposes that all things magical are related and influenced by ancient magical hotspots."_

_Artemis rubbed his chin. "Interesting. But I think you'll find that your postulation should be called **the theory of relatedness**."_

_"Whatever," said Argon, waving the quibble away. "I did a little research and it turns out Fowls have been a bother to fairy folk off and on for thousands of years. Dozens of your ancestors have tried for the crock of gold, though you are the only one to have succeeded."_

_Artemis sat up straight; this was interesting. "And I never knew about this because you mind-wiped my forefathers."_

_"Exactly," said Argon, thrilled to have Artemis's full attention. "When he was a lad, your own father actually managed to hog-tie a dwarf who was drawn to the estate. I imagine he still dreams of that moment."_

_"Good for him."_

**Paragraph from Page 7 – Artemis Fowl and the Last Guardian, Hardback Version**

* * *

_**The Theory of Relatedness**_

The man ran a slim finger over the leather cover, tracing the embossed golden letters of the title of the hardcover volume.

_The Crock of Gold,_ it read.

"Would you read it to me, Father?" Artemis, the Junior, asked hopefully.

Artemis Senior smiled at his young son.

"Of course, Arty," he said, perching on the end of the bed and crossing one leg over the other and settling down with the book. _"The Crock of Gold…"_

He paused. For some reason, a shiver of static electricity passed up his spine.

"What is it Father?" asked the boy.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," his father said. Shaking the feeling off and opening the book, he began to read. "Once upon a time…"

The book itself entailed the story of a young lad who trapped a fairy, a leprechaun, in order to receive its pot of gold. In the story, the boy lost and the fairy escaped with its treasure, but Artemis couldn't help feeling that the lad had had the right idea overall, only to fall short at the end due to his own arrogance.

What Artemis Senior couldn't remember was that, as a boy, with the bones of a plan already laid out for him, he had decided to enact his own version of the story. For most children, this would perhaps involve a cardboard box, an unwitting accomplice (of which Artemis had, although he will come in later) and perhaps a sieve posturing as a helmet. But not this child. Artemis Fowl was different. He had planned to enact the story for real.

But for that, he needed a little more planning. And a little help, of course…

* * *

"Major, what is a 'bucko', exactly?"

The Major looked up from the gun he was cleaning, setting the cloth down and eyeing his charge thoughtfully, wondering where the boy had heard such slang in his well-cultured life.

"It's a colloquialism for 'young boy', Artemis. Why do you ask?"

"Oh I read it somewhere. I thought as much," Artemis said airily, leaning back in the chair he was sat in on the south patio of the manor. "So one would described myself as a 'bucko'?"

The Major snorted slightly. "Certainly not, young sir. A bucko is a boisterous young man with little manners."

"Ah I see. So Junior may be described as a 'bucko'?" Artemis asked gesturing to the other young boy, some three years younger than him, in the garden.

His bodyguard looked over to where the aforementioned 'bucko' was busy hitting a training dummy in various ways, concentration written over his face as he performed each move perhaps as close to perfect as a seven year old could get.

"Well, I'd like to think he has more manners, but yes. Someone could probably call him that."

"I thought as much," Artemis repeated, nodding.

Over by the training dummy, Domovoi's ears twitched. They were talking about him. He had caught his name, or rather his current code name, being said by the Fowl boy and his uncle's rumbling tones replying. He wondered vaguely exactly _what_ had been said, but then concentrated on his training once again. If he messed up now it would mean starting the whole _kata_ again. Despite the fact his uncle was apparently 'busy' cleaning his weaponry (which he promised he would teach Dom to use properly as soon as he was eight) and talking to his charge, he knew he'd be watching him enough to notice if he missed a move or mixed up the order. He finished the last hit, landing lightly on the balls of his feet as though ready to counter an attack from the inanimate object. The Major watched him for a few seconds to ensure he remembered the protocol of waiting until he was given permission to stand-down.

"OK, Junior," he called. "Warm-down."

Domovoi knew better than to ask if he had done well, but he grinned slightly. If he had done it wrong, the order would have been to start again.

"Have we anything on our schedule, Major?" Artemis asked, watching the sweat-sheened boy begin his warm-down routine.

"No Artemis, your father is returning tomorrow evening, but other than that the week is free. Why do you ask? Do you have a plan of what you'd like to spend the time doing?"

The Major immediately regretted asking that. Artemis's 'plans' tended to be quite interesting to say the least.

In particular, the boy's intelligence, coupled with his nephew's strict orders to obey his uncle's charge, had led them all into trouble in the past. For example the time Artemis had attempted to create a machine that ran on the power of a pony trotting in what could only be described as a giant hamster wheel. When the stubborn little Shetland had refused to move anymore, Artemis had forced Domovoi to run in the wheel whilst he thought up a better solution. The solution had been to use the two miniature donkeys that belonged to Artemis's mother. Unfortunately, the donkeys had been much less willing than the young Butler to run in the wheel and had dragged the lad halfway across the manor grounds before the young Fowl had even begun to run for his bodyguard screaming about the out-of-control equines. Needless to say, The Major was not pleased with either of him, but, typically, it was the hoof-battered Domovoi that had to bear the brunt of his Uncle's censure.

"Well Major," Artemis grinned, baring his pearly-white teeth. "I do believe I have."

* * *

The Major would follow his charge to the ends of the earth, but he had to admit that this was ridiculous.

_At least he's acting his age,_ the bodyguard thought to himself, sighing mentally. _And at least it's on the manor grounds._

Still, they had been sat in this miniature fort watching what could only be described as a _completely empty_ meadow for three hours. To his left, he could feel his nephew becoming restless. The poor lad had probably thought that this was going to be fun. Although that was most probably because The Major had put it to him as a 'stakeout', attempting to encourage the bodyguard-to-be to expand his experience in such matters. Despite being still three long years off joining the academy (and very much looking forward to it) training had already begun for the youngest Butler in the form of many various activities during his fortnight-long stays every few months.

Artemis's watch beeped softly and he sighed. "I have been tracking vibrations of the ground for three nights previous to this and it should have come past by now…"

The Major felt his cautious (paranoid) nature twitch at that. His charge had been monitoring nightly visitors, had he? Ones that he, The Major, and his father the current 'Butler' of the manor hadn't noticed. Highly unlikely, to say the least.

"Artemis, it's past midnight…" he spoke up at last.

"By thirty seconds, Major. Yes that is correct," the boy snapped testily.

_He's getting overtired, _The Major thought, wondering if he should just back off and wait until the boy fell asleep.

"That was not my point, Artemis," The Major sighed, placing a firm hand on his charge's shoulder. "Come on. Time for bed now. We can try again tomorrow."

"But Major we're so close…"

"Is that so?" the bodyguard raised an eyebrow somewhat disbelievingly. "And we've been _'so close'_ for the past three hours, have we?"

"Well_ no_, not exactly. But…"

"No buts, young sir. Your mother will not be best pleased with me as it is, allowing you to sit outside in the cold all night. And besides, Junior has training in the morning. He could do with a few hours sleep."

Most nephews would have at least groaned a complaint at that, but Domovoi's eyes lit up. Training in the morning was always his favourite. Before the Fowls were awake, he, his uncle and his grandfather could train undisturbed for an hour or so.

"Oh alright, if you insist…" Artemis grumbled, although to be fair, he had had enough himself. An excuse was welcome. But he would try again tomorrow…

* * *

Deep under the ground the dwarf would have chuckled, if that would not have caused a catastrophic back-up of his system and possibly caused him to choke to death on the clay he was burrowing through.

He had been heading to the magical hotspot to see if he could boost the last trickle of magic left in his body, worn down after years of entering human dwellings unbidden. He had heard stories of this area and had been visiting the spot for the past few days to charge up. Tonight should be enough and then he could leave, but bathing in the glow of the moonlight and magic leaking from the ground was more than slightly addictive and it had almost got him spotted by a human. His ears blocked with clay, he had only just heard the heavy heartbeat of an absolutely huge Mudman sat metres away. And so he had sat and waited until eventually he left. Not caring exactly why the guy had decided to sit outside at midnight, the dwarf broke the surface and breathed deeply.

_Bliss._

* * *

The gym was silent but for the sound of material snapping taught as the two sparring Butlers fought.

The larger's taps were gentle and meant only to show what could be done, whereas the younger flashed his fists and feet forward with controlled ferocity, hitting his uncle at half-strength. The Major felt a bead of sweat run down his cheek and smirked, satisfied. The boy was getting better if he was working up a sweat to block each of his moves. Domovoi's face was drawn with concentration, trying to anticipate the moves his uncle hit him with and throw up a block before countering. He'd make a good bodyguard. Even his grandfather had to admit that the boy was a natural. He spent barely six weeks a year in training with them and yet he fought like an academy-trained second-year student.

The Major countered the attacks, barely contemplating the automatic movements of his body as he thought.

Guiltily, he looked forward to his nephew's tenth birthday. Once he was at the Academy, he'd be spending much of the sixth months that he _wasn't_, here at the manor, rather than with his mother and her boyfriend in the city. The Major was also looking forward to what Ko would think of his nephew. He was determined that the boy would follow in his father's and uncle's footsteps and re-iterate to everyone that their strain of the Butler family was by superior to any other. The Major's thoughts wandered to his twin, but he shook the nostalgia off. If he kept up with his extra training, maybe Domovoi would have a decent shot at beating their joint record of being the youngest Blue-Diamond graduates ever…

The Major realised he wasn't concentrating enough on the present when his nephew's fist ducked under his guard and thumped him soundly in the solar plexus hard enough to knock some of the wind out of him. He recovered quickly, not quickly enough to grab the arm that had done the damaged, but plenty fast enough to grab the foot that came spinning round towards him to follow up, flipping the grinning boy onto his backside gently and barking a laugh.

"What have I told you about those fancy spinning kicks, boy?"

"That they don't work," Domovoi said, hopping lithely to his feet. "But Grandfather says you and my dad used to do them all the time and in the right situation they can be a good move."

"In the right situation, perhaps," his uncle agreed reluctantly. "Which is not…" he paused to grab the youngster's ankle once more. "… against an opponent who can hold you upside-down by the leg, rendering you helpless…"

_'Helpless'_ appeared to be somewhat of an overstatement, as Domovoi pulled a rather impressive vertical sit-up and twisted out of his uncle's grip, who was forced to grab him by the back of his _gi_ or else drop him on his head. In doing so he left himself open for an attack which his nephew took full advantage of and hit the heel of his hand against The Major's chin in a controlled manner.

The timer went shrilly and since neither of them were on the floor or in a form of submission hold, technically the spar was a draw.

"You little shit," The Major growled at his nephew, grabbing the boy by one leg and letting go of his belt. "You're lucky I didn't feel like dropping you on your head, else that wouldn't have worked."

Now swinging by his ankle at arm's reach, Domovoi grinned lopsidedly at him.

"I got you though."

"'_Got me'_ indeed," The Major snorted. "I don't see _you_ hanging _me_ out to dry like laundry."

The Major lowered his nephew towards the mat until he could support his weight on his hand and flip backwards onto his feet, barely stumbling as he righted himself.

"I'll get you one day though," the youngest Butler grinned, ever the optimist.

And the annoying thing was that that was probably true and The Major knew it. It had been (not that he would admit it) quite a strain to hold the muscled kid at full reach like that and before long the boy would be a young man, ready to take on anyone, including his uncle. With Domovoi expected to guard the next generation of Fowls, The Major envisaged there would be many more opportunities for his nephew to actually _'get him'_ in the future.

He was right, of course. But that is another story.

"In your dreams," he said aloud. "Now go on - go get changed. Doubtless Artemis will have some hare-brained scheme for us to take part in yet again today."

But he was wrong about that.

Artemis only got out of bed very late in the morning (probably due to his equally late night) and spent most of the day brooding in his bedroom. Sulking, some would call it, but The Major knew better. The boy was _up to something_. He delivered a late lunch to his charge and told him, rather suspiciously, to call if he needed him.

But it was to be the younger Butler that was to be called upon by the young Fowl later that day.

"But Father…" The Major said into the telephone, the hand that was gripping the handset clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

_"I know full well what your issues are, boy, but you will have to put them aside. I'm not happy leaving the family with just the manor security either but if you don't come then I'm going to have to walk him into this bear-pit by myself. Which I will do if you're not here within the next forty minutes and on your head be it if we don't make it out the other side."_

The Major ground his teeth but his father was right. His charge (and nephew) were in the safest place they could be without him. And besides that, his father was a proud man. He would _never_ ask for _anyone's_ help if he didn't genuinely need it.

"Fine. I'll meet you there."

_"Good man,"_ his father said curtly. _"Oh and Myles?"_

"Yes?" The Major asked, irritated at his father for using his name on a possibly-insecure line.

_"Bring the Bentley."_

"Yessir," The Major grinned slightly at that. At least the unexpected outing would be an excuse to drive the newest car in their fleet. A beaut of a vehicle, fully armoured and with a couple of hundred horses under the bonnet…

"Who was that, Uncle?" Dom asked.

The Major swore under his breath that the little tyke had been ear-wigging, but as it was him that had taught the lad to spy, he could hardly be too harsh on him.

"What did I tell you about listening in on other people's phonecalls?" he demanded, scowling at him.

As a Butler, Domovoi was immune to the death-glares his family could dish out at will and so simply chewed his lip obliviously, clearly trying to remember the aforementioned instructions.

"Erm... To do so unobstrusively... and not to make it obvious. To be doing something else so it doesn't look like you're listening and... erm... oh yeah - and to try to gather from what is said and from how the person on your end interacts with the other person to see who it is on the other end."

The Major rolled his eyes. Of course his nephew would have memorised his instructions. If in a rather jumbled and confusing manner, it had to be said.

"It's unob_trusively_, not 'strusively," he corrected. "And so? Who was it then?"

"From the way you said 'yessir' I reckon it was Grandfather."

"Well deduced. Now don't ask stupid questions in the future."

"Ma says there's no such thing as a stupid question," Dom told him defiantly.

"Well I've heard many a stupid question in my time, boy," The Major snorted. "And believe me there are plenty to be going at."

"Like what?"

"Like_ 'What does this button do?'_ for starters," his uncle answered, trying not to recall _all_ of the times he'd heard that phrase. "Just don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

"OK," Dom nodded, filing the information away. "What did he want, then?"

The Major considered amending his order to 'Don't ask questions, full stop', but the kid was a fast learner and it was a fact that he never asked the same thing twice once he had the answer.

"He needs me to go pick them up from somewhere tonight."

Not the whole truth, but close enough.

"Can I come?" the boy asked hopefully.

"Not this time, Dom," his uncle said, which immediately told him that it wasn't a simple _'pick-up'_.

The young Butler looked so disappointed that The Major added something on his way up the stairs to inform his charge of his departure.

"But you can watch Artemis for me while I'm gone."

"Yessir," Domovoi beamed proudly.

"Good lad."

The Major shook his head slightly as he left, wondering if it was a good or a bad thing the kid was nurturing a guarding instinct so young.

_Good,_ he decided. _The sooner he starts, the better he'll be. And the better he is, the safer he and his future charge will be._

Then he laughed at himself for being so soft._ 'Safe'_ indeed. The boy was going to grow up to be a flaming walking bullet-proof shield, for Christ's sake.

* * *

Artemis watched his manservant drive off down the drive with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. For some reason, his bodyguard's absence always made him feel nervous. But guaranteed the man would not have agreed to sitting out in the cold on the fort for a second night. However, he was not the only Butler in the manor. And the one that _was_ left behind, would surely be much more willing to co-operate. Or at the very least, much less likely to tell him to go to bed.

He headed for the door of the youngest Butler and knocked firmly on the wooden surface. The Major had told him that the doors was so thick they would withstand many bullets and over thirty minuets of a raging fire before they went through.

"Yeah?"

"Junior, it's me. May I come in?"

"Oh er... yeah. Sorry... sir."

Artemis opened the door swiftly and strode in. Domovoi placed the magazine he was reading on the floor and scooted it under the bed with his heel.

"What were you reading?" Artemis asked curiously.

The young Butler looked a bit shamefaced but answered truthfully.

"_Guns and Ammo," _he muttered. "I nicked it from Uncle's room. Don't tell him though."

Artemis smiled somewhat evilly at the younger boy. "Oh I wouldn't tell on you."

"Cheers Artemis," Domovoi said, returning the grin, albeit a little suspiciously. The Fowl boy almost always had an ulterior motive. "He'd kill me if he knew I'd been rooting through his stuff."

Artemis was fairly sure his manservant would know that someone had been into his room and know exactly where to come looking for the magazine once he realised it was missing, but he continued anyway.

"Or at least I won't, so long as you help me with my plan..."

Domovoi couldn't help thinking he'd walked right into that one, but sighed, pulling on his boots.

"Alright then. what do you need me for," he asked unwillingly.

"Firstly, we must wait until midnight," said the young plotter. "And then, we are going to capture a fairy."

And it wouldn't be the last time that particular Butler would hear those words spoken by an Artemis Fowl, either.

* * *

Butlers were born to obey Fowls. Or at least most were. A yet-to-be-born-in-the-time-of-this-story Juliet, would beg to differ. But it was fairly true that the majority of Butlers are compelled, almost by instinct, to follow the orders of a Fowl. Or at least providing they do not think that obeying the aforementioned whim will cause harm to their charge.

Which was why, a few hours later, the two boys were sat, once again, in the small fort watching over the meadow.

Domovoi was not too pleased by this. The Major had told him to look after Artemis and although he hadn't particularly stated that they were to stay inside and get an early night, he doubted his uncle would approve of the fact that they were back where they had been exactly 24 hours ago.

"Now then Junior, do you remember what I told you?" Artemis asked him quietly.

Domovoi refrained from rolling his eyes and saying something sarcastic. An ability that would serve him well in the future.

"Yes, Artemis," he said, checking the rope for the umpteenth time.

Artemis eyed the younger, but undoubtedly stronger, boy thoughtfully, trying to work out whether he was just replying automatically or whether he actually understood his role in the proceedings. But before he could speak, one of his gadgets started flashing.

"Hush! Don't speak. We must be quiet now. When it breaks the surface, you…"

"Pull that rope, drop the net on it and tie whatever it is up, yeah?"

Artemis decided to brush over the insolence his bodyguard's nephew in favour of keeping silence so that the creature, the fairy, would make an appearance.

Which it promptly did.

The dwarf had intended not to visit the spot for another hundred years or so. But the pull of the magic coinciding with the nearly full moon, had brought him back once again for one more night. He had a feeling he was being watched – probably by the LEP – so it'd be one last quick visit.

Or at least that was the plan.

In reality, he broke the surface, hopping out from his tunnel and shaking his behind before buttoning his bum-flap. He wandered nonchalantly towards the fort when suddenly, as he passed under the nearest tree, something fell from the sky, flattening him instantly under the net. Immediately he unhinged his jaw and made as though to dig his escape, only to find himself pinned by something which squeezed several pressure points known to knock out humans. As it happened, the actions of young Domovoi Butler caused a reaction he would suffer from again in the future as the dwarf's bowels released the gas they held, propelling the pair over the grass at a high speed until they crashed smack into the solid stone wall of the fort. The dwarf was knocked out instantly. Luckily for Domovoi, his impact was mostly cushioned by his 'captive' and that, coupled with the general toughness of the Butler family's skeleton, protected the youngster from too much harm. He leapt up instantly, wiping the small amount of blood from his forehead and looking up at Artemis, who was shining a high-power torch down from above and gabbling excitedly.

"Did you get it? Is it unconscious? Get it tied up quick!"

And that was why, when the dwarf came round, he found himself expertly hog-tied and facing the icy gaze of young Master Fowl and the confused features of a boy who was holding the sleeve of his jumper to his forehead.

"Hello, fairy," said the smaller boy, steepling his fingers in a way which would one day be professional, but now simply looked comical on such a young lad. "I believe you owe me something."

The dwarf's eyes glinted in the light of the torches.

Two little mudboys. He had been outsmarted by a pair of kids barely out of nappies. He couldn't believe it.

_Bloody kids breathing so damn quietly..._ No wonder he hadn't heard them.

Rustily, he spoke in English.

"And why would that be kid? If anything I think you owe me some bloody compensation after the way you two have treated me."

Artemis was slightly stumped by that, but not for too long. "Be that as it may, Mister Fairy, protocol dictates that you now owe _me_ your pot of gold."

The dwarf began to laugh raucously, so much so that the Butler stepped in front of the Fowl on instinct, protecting him should the strange little man he had tied up somehow broke free and try to attack them. His hand slipped into the pocket of his combats and rested it comfortingly on his penknife. He hadn't been taught exactly _where_ to stab to kill someone yet – that was next year's training - but he was fairly sure that if he kept sticking the man with it, he'd soon cease to be a threat.

"Pot of gold? What kind of fairy story do you live in, mud... kid? There's no pot of gold."

"I beg to differ," Artemis bared his teeth in a smile.

This had been expected. Just like in the book, the fairy would first try to lie about the existence of his hidden treasure and then, eventually, he would give up and lead them to it. It was unfortunate that The Major was not with them, for surely he would have been able to make the strange little fairy-man speak much sooner than they could, but for now Junior would have to do.

"Don't jest with me, little fairy man," he said in his best 'stern-negotiator' voice. "I already know there is a collection of treasure of value to be claimed. Whether this is comprised of gold or not, is of little importance. Regardless, you will lead us to it."

The dwarf laughed again. "Not bloody likely, kid."

"And why is that, may I ask?" Artemis said, beginning to get irritated with the proceedings. There had been a rumour in other tales that one had to keep the fairy captive until dawn before they would reveal the whereabouts of their stash, but he was uncertain of this fact. He would much rather be rid of the prisoner before any adults tried to get involved. They would take the fairy away, which would leave Artemis with no credit for its capture and, more importantly, no gold.

"There ain't no gold, kid. Grow up. What do you think I am? A bleedin' leprechaun?" the dwarf chuckled to himself. "And that's funnier than you think, actually."

He stepped closer pointing a finger at the man threateningly. "Enough of your jokes. Where is your metaphorical pot of gold hidden?"

Domovoi though that Artemis was a strange kind of clever. For example, he was clever in the ways of maths and science and stuff, but stupid in the ways of, say, using the microwave or not annoying people who could hurt you.

"Well, I'd love to tell you, kid," the dwarf sighed melodramatically. "But unfortunately I can't."

"And why is that?" Artemis repeated testily.

"Well, mostly because it doesn't exist - which trust me, I regret too, you know?" the fairy told the human. "But also because there's a bunch of invisible guys with guns behind you who are about to save my bumflap."

_Save, arrest… same difference,_ thought the dwarf.

_What's a 'bumflap',_ thought Artemis.

But Domovoi didn't care what a 'bumflap' was, he'd stopped listening at the _'behind you'_ part. It could have been a trick and he realised this, but if Artemis got hurt on his watch, he was in so _so_ much trouble... he spun round, assessing the threat and pushing his uncle's charge to the wall, covering him as best he could.

"Junior! What on earth…" the older boy began, but petered off as figures speckled into view, shining guns pointed right at them.

Domovoi pulled out his penknife, lowered his centre of gravity and stood, ready to defend them both from the miniature Power Rangers.

"Alright mudboy," one of them said, stepping closer. "Put that down and no-one has to get hurt."

Domovoi said nothing and kept the knife ready in his hand. The fairy was about to mesmerised him when the dwarf started yelling.

"Officer! Officer! These mudboys dragged me right out of the ground. I'm innocent…"

"Quiet, convict! I'll deal with you later," the elfin captain of LEP Retrieval One growled, turning his back on the dwarf. "Now you, kid. _Put that down_."

Artemis looked at his bodyguard's charge. His arms were shaking, seemingly uncontrollably. How strange.

"I said_ put it __**down**__, mudboy."_

Domovoi's hand released without his say-so, the knife spinning to the floor and landing on the grass, glinting in the moonlight.

"Good. Now…"

"Excuse me," Artemis interrupted, stepping past his temporary bodyguard. This was his part. Clearly these beings were some sort of fairy police and in his (rather limited) experience, the Butler family rarely got on well with law enforcement officers. Not that Fowls did, exactly, but at least they didn't end up brawling with their enemies. "But this 'convict' owes me a pot of gold, or equivalent, and I would very much like to collect it as soon as continently possible, if that wouldn't be too much trouble."

A ripple of laughter passed through the team and the leader silenced them all with a glare.

"Artemis we should probably…" Domovoi began, keeping his gaze low so as not to make eye-contact with the strangers again in case they tried that hypnosis thing again. He was confused by whole experience and sudden arrival of more enemies, but he was fairly sure that his uncle's charge should _not_ be attempting to bargain with the group.

"Quiet, Junior. Don't tell me you're already becoming as paranoid as the rest of your family? I'm sure these men are very reasonable and will do as we ask. After all, we are not in the wrong."

Domovoi considered taking offence at the fact he'd just pretty much had his family insulted and been told to shut up all in the same breath. Especially when actually, he had a very good point to say. These men were unlikely to be _'reasonable'_, plus the pair of them had just tied someone up, or rather _he_ had done the tying whilst Artemis watched, which was most definitely not _'in the right'_ in anyone's book.

"Not in the wrong? All of you muds are in the wrong," one of the officers spat at them.

The one in charge - a Captain by the looks of his uniform, both boys noted - turned to him.

"Alright, enough mudslinging, they're only a pair of kids. Wipe 'em and put 'em to bed."

"Wiped? Excuse me?" Artemis said indignantly, stepping behind Junior once again, entirely automatically. Fowls are practically programmed to go running to Butlers when things take a turn for the worse.

"Yup. Mind-wiped. Can't have you telling all your little friends about this, can we? Don't worry, Foaly assures me it doesn't hurt a jot."

Artemis did not know who this 'Foaly' person was, but he most certainly did not take this little man's word for the fact that 'mind-wiping' didn't hurt.

A few of the officers stepped forward and attempted to grab one of the 'kids'.

Unfortunately for them, the 'kid' they went for first was the one that had been training for moments like this for as long as he could remember and was very much looking forward to a chance to perform his new _kata_ for real. To be fair on the fairies, even at seven-years-old, Domovoi Butler already towered over them, his limbs half-again the thickness of theirs.

"Don't bother fighting, mudboy. You can't take on the entire Retrieval One and expect to come off better," one of the elves laughed.

Domovoi bared his teeth in a grim smile at that, settling himself into a position which would best allow him to take out his opponents.

"Want to bet on that?" he asked.

The elves stepped forward, some still laughing. But, in a series of events that would not end up on the mission report, the boy somehow managed to land three of the elves on their backsides and break another's nose before someone stunned him with a bolt from one of the new Neutrinos.

He fell to the floor with a heavy thud, arms still twitching as though trying to complete the routine he had learnt without input from his brain.

"Frond, he's just a kid. You didn't have to knock him out like that," one of the officers muttered.

"That 'kid' could have grown up to be a serious threat to The People if I hadn't," the shooter argued.

"Oh yeah right, I'm sure."

Artemis thought he should probably run or something, but he stood frozen and gaping until a fairy reached up, grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at him.

"Sorry, mudboy. You know personally, I wouldn't have minded if you'd sliced the convict open and experimented on him, but everything he owns he steals so we'd would have been back to collect your 'pot of gold' soon enough. Now _sleep."_

Artemis sighed slightly, thinking of just how close he'd got. Just like the boy in the story.

"Well, it was worth a try," he mumbled as he slipped into unconsciousness.

The Captain actually chucked at that, but Artemis barely heard it before the darkness overcame him.

"Right. Get these two hooked up and heal the big ones forehead whilst you're at it. I want no evidence of us being here in twenty minutes tops. We've only got four hours until dawn and Frond knows what kind of security this castle has. And we've just had a beeper for a possible troll sighting on the North-East coast," the team scrambled to obey the orders. "And somebody load the convict…"

But as he turned to gesture at the captive, the Captain stopped. Where the dwarf had been moments previous, was nothing but a piled of shredded rope. He had chewed his way free whilst they were dealing with the mudpeople.

"D'Arvit! Why weren't one of you watching him?"

"Uh… well… the mudboy…" the elf with a broken nose stuttered thickly.

Deep under the ground the dwarf would have chuckled, if that would not have caused a catastrophic back-up of his system and possibly caused him to choke to death on the clay he was burrowing through.

_Magic replenished somewhat? – Check_

_Mudboys dealt with? – Check_

_LEP foiled again? – Check_

Perhaps he should go start collecting a pot of gold in case he got caught by a delusionary mudboy again… or you know, just because it was there for the taking…

* * *

The Major parked the Bentley in the garage after dropping his father and his charge off at the front doors to the manor. He stepped lithely from the car, turned on the garage lights and ran his hand along the door panel now adorned with a vicious scratch. They had got out as the gates were closing and only his driving skills had managed to get them out at all. Still, that was going to take more than a bit of T-cut on a rag and some elbow grease to get out…

He sighed. It was quite gutting, really. The poor thing was barely six months old…

Deciding he would deal with it later, he gave the car a pat and unlocked the adjoining door to the manor, heading for his charge's chambers.

He opened the door silently and entered the room. On the bed his charge lay, curled on his side, fully clothed and clearly out of it. The Major allowed himself to smile slightly in the semi-darkness, unfolding a blanket from the end of the bed and unfurling it over the boy. He'd ask tomorrow why on earth the boy was in bed with muddy shoes on, but for now he'd let him sleep.

Satisfied that his charge was safe, he closed the door and padded down the corridor to his nephew's temporary room. He was half-expecting the boy to be awake, as he often was whenever his uncle and grandfather were out, forcing himself to wait for them to return safely before he went to sleep. But tonight he was sprawled across the bed, also fully dressed, which made The Major slightly suspicious. Suspicious enough to shake the boy by the shoulder.

Domovoi snapped awake and grabbed hold of the wrist near his neck, twisting firmly until his 'attacker's' fingers spasmed involuntarily and released their grip on his jumper.

"Hey, stop it. It's me," his uncle said, slightly impressed at the manoeuvre.

"Oh right," the boy breathed out, half in relief, half in disappointment that he hadn't got to complete the rest of the routine, which would have ended with him pinning the attacker on the floor. "I thought you were…"

But he stopped suddenly. So suddenly that his uncle's head whipper round to check no-one had just entered the room or something equally as conversation killing.

Seeing nothing of a threatening nature, The Major waited, but his nephew didn't continue. He just sat there with a blank and confused look on his face.

"Thought I was who?" he prompted.

But Domovoi suddenly didn't have a clue who he thought his uncle had been.

"Uh… I dunno. Just a nightmare, I think."

The Major raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Why are you in bed like that?"

His nephew looked down and seemed as surprised as The Major to find himself dressed as he was in muddy clothes and his heavy boots The Major had bought him for his seventh birthday.

"Uh… me and Artemis were playing a game by the fort. Then we got tired, so we went to bed. I suppose I just crashed when I got in here."

"Funny. He's exactly the same," The Major frowned. "Anything happen whilst I was out?"

"No," Domovoi said truthfully. Or at least he said what he thought was the truth, which was why his uncle's in-built 'Bullshit Detector' didn't go off at the lad's response.

"Hmm…" The Major frowned.

"Why have you got blood on you? Was there a fight?" his nephew piped up.

The Major glanced at his own attire and saw the off-crimson splattering he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Yes, but it's not mine."

"Good. Will you tell me about it though?"

The Major hid a smile. The boy was always desperate to know what he'd 'missed out on'. Little did the lad know now, he'd suffer the same treatment himself in the years to come - and perhaps regret being so eager to question as a child.

"Tomorrow, maybe," he told him. "But for now you need to get some sleep. Your grandfather says he'll be training with us tomorrow."

"Aww yes!" Domovoi grinned, kicking off his boots.

"I thought you'd be pleased," his uncle chuckled, standing up.

"'Course am pleased," the boy beamed at him. "G'night Uncle."

"Goodnight Dom," The Major said, pausing. Then, as though not sure whether he should or not, he reached out a rough palm and ruffled the lad's hair. "Maybe you can show old Pa that kick of yours tomorrow?"

"No problem," the boy said, looking very much like he would probably not be getting to sleep anytime soon, but it was his own look-out if he wasn't up by five tomorrow, just three hours away.

The Major closed the door and headed for his own room. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the kick. Alexandr Butler was unlikely to take well to almost being beaten by his seven-year-old grandson.

* * *

When Artemis awoke the next day, he lay for a few seconds, trying to recollect the vivid dream he'd been having that was rapidly slipping away as he became more and more conscious. He frowned, but the images were gone. How irritating.

He threw the blanket off himself, only to find himself fully dressed. How odd.

He went to the window and opened the curtains wide. Outside it was a glorious day, sunshine beaming though the glass panes. Artemis made an attempt to open the window with his skinny arms, mud flaking off his sleeves onto the windowsill. Or had it already been there? There was far too much for it to have come solely from him just then, wasn't there? He scowled, annoyed at himself for possible destroying some sort of evidence of the images dancing, just out of reach, in his mind.

Maybe he'd ask Junior if he remembered something strange happening to them last night…

But although he did, neither of the pair could remember more than it having something to do with the fort. Junior went back there later that day after his training session and found his penknife laying in the mud, which was odd, as he was under eyeball orders from both his mother and his uncle to keep it in his pocket unless he needed it, and he couldn't think of a reason he would have done if they'd just been playing a castle game…

In the years to come, one of the boys would never consciously remember capturing a dwarf, but every now and then he would awake from a dream with a strange compulsion to read a fairytale he had loved as a child.

And so, when the time came for bedtime stories, Artemis Fowl would read _'The Crock of Gold'_ to his young son, who would listen intently, as he had done to his own father.

The other boy would forget almost entirely about the whole incident.

But one day, in the far distant future to Junior right now, he would find himself inexplicably inclined to go along with a plan to kidnap a fairy.

Needless to say, LEP Retrieval One would be slightly less cocky facing him then, than they had been the first time…

* * *

**Well, you can choose whether the LEP Captain was Root and whether the dwarf was Mulch, I left it open so that it would be fine even if the timings don't work using those characters.**

**I've been planning to write this one ever since I read the released 1st chapter of Last Guardian on the internet. Plus, it was an excellent excuse to write our favourite big guy as a little guy - the youngest I've ever written him. Plus I got to write Artemis Senior as a kid too. Might have made him a little too much like I write his son, but ah well.**

**I wondered whether Butler would have been to Artemis Senior what Juliet is like to Artemis, but I decided to make him younger than him because it worked better for the story. Not that a 14 year old Butler wouldn't have gone along with a ten-year-old Artemis's plans... probably to humour him. Nobody likes an angry juvenile Fowl. Besides, Colfer messes up the ages entirely for Butler by saying the 'five-years in Russia' thing amongst other 'dark-ages' references of Butler's past and also by saying he's forty before the whole being-dead thing, yet he used to teach Juliet spinning kicks in her sandbox as a teenager, but she's sixteen when he's supposedly forty which makes no sense, ****so he literally is of an unknown age haha :) ****Therefore he is probably younger than forty in the books, but if Artemis Senior was even younger than him, it would make him a rather young dad for Arty, which I think he wouldn't be for some reason. Then there's Wolfy-Canon which means that in order for Butler's dad Beckett (*shamless-self-advertising-alert* go read my latest big-fic 'Dead In Absentia' if that makes no sense to you and also if you have no idea why at some point above The Major got referred to as 'Myles') to get with Butler's mum Theresa after the death of his charge, he needs to be younger than Artemis Senior and that'd probably be by about 3 years with time gaps and stuff and yeah I'll probably get round to writing my version of Butler's entire life story when I get round to it (if he doesn't kill me first) haha :)**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I reckon it's been far too long since I did a proper Lil' Rem' so I hope this makes up for it somewhat.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	19. The Origins of Cookie  Part 1

**PLEASE READ THIS FIRST.**

**[And this bit below too. Not just that line above ;)]**

**This... this is a tester chapter for a new fic-set that will hopefully be making it onto FanFic very soon. It probably won't be much like anything I've ever written before, for reasons I will tell you about at the bottom if you're interested in finding out.**

**As usual, anything you recognise as Eoin Colfer's is, of course, Eoin Colfer's and not mine. However, a certain red-headed gentlemen you will hopefully come to know well should you decide you like the sound of where this is going, belongs solely to Steinbock. Like I said, if you're interested, there's more info at the end, but I won't babble on too much just now.**

**Enjoy the chapter, it stands alone anyway if you decide not to read the 'series' that will follow it.**

**WARNINGS: Swear word. Possibly more, I can't remember.**

* * *

**The Origins of Cookie**

_**Part One**_

_Blame it on the Weather_

It was hot. Unusually so for Ireland. The weather had somehow even managed to cajole Artemis Junior out of his study to accompany his family to the jaunt to the park in honour of the appearance of the sun.

Currently, Juliet was in a queue for ice-creams from a hard-worked van, along with Myles, Beckett and their mother. Butler didn't envy his sister. The people were jostling for position, shouting to and at eachother, completely disregarding normal manners. It would be easy to pickpocket any number of them, distracted as they were, but fortunately for the public, neither Butler was currently interested in pursuing that method of earning.

Artemis Senior sat under the shade of the tree they were under, his newspaper spread out in front of him. Butler wasn't so sure he was actually reading it beneath the designer sunglasses, but he at least hadn't begun snoring as of yet. Artemis Junior too, was buried in reading, but his was some hefty and boring-looking tome with an unpronounceable title. Not that Butler was bothered. His charge wasn't complaining and so far, the biggest threat to anyone had been the furious Yorkshire Terrier an old woman had been struggling to control earlier that afternoon. Still, Butler would be happy to head back to the relative safety of the Manor and its grounds. The park was very open and structures such as the large clock tower and the converted café building would provide many opportunities for snipers to set up an ambush. The Fowl family had acres of grassland, woodland and general park-like terrain. Why they couldn't simply stay at home and have their picnic there, he would never know. But it was one of the many things Madam Ko had warned of and so he just kept his mouth shut and put it down to 'The Principal Knows Best'.

The sun beat down and a few birds tweeted in the trees. A bumblebee flew in a lazy loop in front of him and Butler slid his gaze across the scattered crowds of people. There were no obvious threats, but still he double-checked._ Particularly_ when he spotted a flash of bright red hair amongst the throng. He immediately looked away, lest he risk the man get that prickling_ 'being watched'_ feeling and spin round. He was familiar. The bright ginger hair, broken only by the scar on the back of his head, the way he walked, swinging his arms nonchalantly in the way Madam Ko despised… everything was very, _very_ familiar. It did not take long for Butler to realise _exactly_ who the 'stranger' was and he almost groaned aloud once he did. Charles 'Banana' Smith wasn't exactly who he needed to bump into whilst on the job. The man had always been a joker and would likely adore the chance to embarrass his old Academy-mate in front of his employers. Deciding to hope it was a look-a-like, or at the least that the man didn't notice him, Butler turned to checking the rest of the population of the park, occasionally glancing back at where the familiar man had been.

Before too long, Juliet forged a break through the bustling people and the twins barrelled forward, holding their ice-creams aloft like trophies and squealing happily, Angeline in tow.

"I come bearing ice-creams!" Juliet announced, handing out the generously filled cones.

How she had managed to carry two in each hand without some sort of frozen-dairy-product disaster occurring, neither Artemis was sure. Butler's only criticism was that it would take her that extra second to drop her cargo before reaching for her weapon, but he had a feeling if he mentioned that, the ice-cream his sister was offering him would end up somewhere unpleasant. Down his shirt, for example. The _inside_ of his shirt, that was.

Artemis Junior took his ice-cream gingerly, nose wrinkling slightly at the trickle of melting vanilla that soaked the paper napkin wrapped neatly around the cone.

"Thank-you for the gesture, Juliet," he said, sounding anything _but_ grateful for the ice-cold treat. "But I would have much preferred it served in a tub…"

"With a little plastic spoon, preferably a blue one?" Juliet rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah Arty. I remember how you like your ice-cream, but the guy had no tubs left. So suck it up, you wuss."

Artemis was fairly sure that the phrase _'suck it up'_ meant something along the lines of _'be daring',_ although as Beckett was avidly demonstrating, it also seemed to be an effective way of consuming ice-cream. He licked at it tentatively and had to admit, despite the messiness of the cuisine, there was little better to be eating on a day like today. Except perhaps a sorbet. In a bowl. With proper cutlery.

Butler finished his ice-cream with his usual lightning-fast speed and was fully expecting his sister to make some comment along the lines of the reason he didn't get brain-freeze was that he didn't have a brain, but instead she looked at him with some concern before speaking quietly enough for the Fowls not to notice. Then again, they probably wouldn't have noticed even if she had spoken normally. They were far too busy attempting to keep Beckett from 'helping' both his brother's eat their own ice-creams.

"What's up with you?" she asked, hand straying to her belt. It was hard to hide a gun in summery clothes, but Juliet was a Butler and therefore nothing was impossible.

"Nothing," Butler feigned nonchalance. Apparently, he feigned it rather badly, or at least he did so to his sister's trained eye.

"Seriously, what is it?" Juliet said, eyes flicking around. "You're making me twitch too, now."

"_Too?_" Butler raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes _too_," Juliet said thumping him on the shoulder. "You're being all _twitchy_ and it's rubbing off on me."

"I don't _'twitch'_ Jules," Butler said frowning. "I'm _checking_."

"Fine, fine, whatever," she sighed, well-used to her brother's excuses about his, in her opinion, _obvious_ paranoia. "But could you at least please let me know what you're '_checking'_ so I can _'check' _it too?"

"It's nothing, Jules. You know I'd tell you if it was."

"Unless," Juliet's eyes lit up. "_Unless_ it was something you didn't want me to know."

"Juliet…" Butler sighed, not wishing to know where his sister's overactive imagination was headed.

"Have you been checking out those girls over there?" she teased cheekily, indicating a group of rather overweight women attempting some sort of_ 'Flab-Buster'_ routine with an enthusiastic, lycra-clad yoga-teacher flouncing around them like a hyperactive pipecleaner.

"Really now, Jules," Butler muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Do you not know me at all?"

The only other obvious large group in the park were two teams of semi-sober men playing a game of bare-footed football with t-shirts as goalposts.

"Those guys then?" Juliet asked, grinning mischievously.

Butler gave her _'the look'_. Not the _'you have approximately five seconds left to live' _look, but the specially tailored _'now you're asking for it, little sister'_ look. He had based it upon the _'now you're asking for it, nephew'_ look his uncle had often given him in the past and honed it over the years until Juliet no longer needed to hear the words to know she was toeing the line to a severe beating next time they sparred.

Luckily, Angeline interrupted before the quiet argument could become an all-out sibling mutter-battle.

"Well I think that's probably enough excitement for today," she said, wiping ice-cream from Myles's earlobe and turning to help her husband to his feet.

Thankfully, Juliet dropped the issue in order to grab hold of Beckett, who was, fuelled by the ice-cream no doubt, becoming increasingly more excited as the crowds diminished and the various species of wildlife that lived in the park began sneaking out of hiding to scavenge for scraps left behind by the day's visitors.

To the cries of; 'Squirrel, squirrel, squirrel!' from one twin and 'Actually it's a _Sciurus carolinensis' _from the other, the Fowls and Butlers made their way back to the carpark where the Bentley patiently awaited their return.

_Paint fading by the second too,_ Butler thought grumpily. _And the leather on the seats will start cracking if I don't condition it again. And they'll want the air-con on so the damn thing will guzzle petrol like Beckett downs cappuccino..._

He continued to thought-mutter to himself about the state of his uncle's car as they walked. He would have parked her in the shade of a tree to protect her from the sun somewhat, but that would only risk things landing on the roof or bonnet. Tree sap, for example. A killer for the paint-job unless you soaked it off pretty much immediately. Then again, with all the dust on the roads at the moment he'd probably have to give her a full clean when they got back anyway. Last time she had seen him cleaning the roof of the car thoroughly, Juliet had said he was being daft and no-one but other ridiculously tall people looked at the roof of cars anyway. He'd told her that wasn't the point, but she'd just tut-tutted and said he was turning into The Major more and more every day. At which he had chucked the bucket of water he was using at her and she had promptly taken the comment back. Still, he tried not to think too hard about the state the interior would be in once the twins piled in with their duck-mucked feet and sticky, ice-creamed hands...

They were walking along the edge of the lake when it happened.

As has been mentioned in the past, Butler is an expert at controlling his facial expression, even under high pressure.

Did he laugh when that seagull crapped on his charge after their outing to the beach? No, despite the fact the boy screamed hysterically.

Did he so much as smirk when Artemis Senior was kicking through leaves with his two youngest sons and accidently kicked right through a concealed cowpat on their country walk? No he did not.

Did he even twitch a lip when Beckett, after several attempts, managed to catapult his slice of custard flan directly across the dining-room table at his twin during the New Year's Ball? No.

And so he didn't even turn his head in acknowledgment as his old friend began bellowing from the other side of the lake.

He and Artemis were walking a little to the back of the group, possibly due to Artemis carrying his own bag for once, in which was contained his giant book, and so none of the rest of the family even looked back. After all, what was being shouted was hardly anything to them, was it?

Artemis, however, frowned, faltering in his step.

"Butler, there appears to be a gentlemen shouting at us from across the lake."

"Yes, thank-you, Artemis. I have noticed that."

"Well it would be hard not to," Artemis raised an eyebrow. Butler had just been practically _snippy_ with him.

"Indeed."

"He's waving rather enthusiastically."

"Probably inebriated, Artemis. I blame it on the weather. We should keep moving and hope he realises we're not who he thinks we are."

This excuse might have worked. After all, Butler was, and it had to be admitted, bald and thug-ish-looking. Surely it was entirely possible that a drunk would mistake him for another bald, thug-ish-looking man. Especially at a distance from where it was possibly to not quite notice his seven-foot stature.

Unfortunately for Butler, at this point, the man changed tack and started yelling something different.

"Butler – oi! Yo Butler! Don't ignore me you grumpy old git!"

"Ah, Butler?" asked his charge. "Are you _sure_ you don't know that man?"

"Whether I know him or not, is not important Artemis, clearly he is under the influence of some mental-faculty-affecting substance and a possible threat. Just keep heading for the car. I'll deal with him if he becomes a problem.

Artemis was fairly interested in meeting someone from Butler's past, especially someone who would dare to yell at his bodyguard in such a manner, but seen as though Butler seemed to have no desire for a reunion, Artemis decided to respect his wishes and possibly pry the information out of Juliet later. Besides, there were probably plenty of tall, bald Butlers in the world for his own bodyguard to be mistaken for.

Speaking of other Butlers, Juliet, perhaps fifty or sixty metres ahead of them was currently preoccupied with the twins and so didn't react to the shouting - thankfully. Butler had never been so happy that Beckett had a habit of poking animal faeces with a stick for Myles to identify the source of.

Artemis set off again, albeit at his excruciatingly slow walk, and Butler continued to resolutely ignore the man on the other side of the lake, who looked as though he was about to leap into the stagnant lake-water and swim over to them.

"Cookie! Hey Cookie – you gone deaf, old boy?"

_That_ made Artemis pause.

"Butler?"

"Yes, Artemis?" Butler asked pleasantly - the kind of _'pleasantly'_ Artemis had, from quite a young age, realised masked the fact that his bodyguard was probably reciting something in his head repeatedly to prevent himself from forcibly ridding the world of whatever was causing either himself or his charge irritation.

"That gentleman we were just talking about..." he paused as though unsure whether to complete his sentence.

"Yes, Artemis?" Butler asked, managing to keep the frustration from his voice.

Artemis licked his lips before he began. A sure sign of apprehension from the Fowl. "Well... well he appears to be referring to you as… well, as a _biscuit_."

As this was evidently true, Butler decided it was best just to agree with his charge and hope that Artemis left it at that.

"It would appear so, sir."

"May I ask why?" Artemis asked, only slightly tentatively. After all, as terrifying as Butler could be when crossed, he was his bodyguard. Whatever anger the man was feeling, Artemis should hopefully be shielded from by that fact.

_"Yoo-hoo! Coooooooookie!"_ the man hollered loudly, utterly regardless of the looks he was getting for shattering the peace of the balmy summer evening.

Butler's _'I'm ignoring you' _resolve finally broke and he shot the man a glare that translated almost exactly as; _'If you don't shut your face right now, I am going to come over there and shut it for you'_.

"No," he answered his charge. "No, I think it's probably best if you don't."

Unfortunately for Butler, at this point, Juliet turned her head to see where her brother and his charge had got to and noticed the shouting man, who was currently trying to commandeer a pedalo, rather than sprint to cut them off before the bridge over the narrow end of the lake. The couple in the boat appeared to speak little English and floundered in the water, yelling in alarm.

After a few seconds of squinting into the setting sun, Juliet realised _exactly_ who it was and squealed, waving furiously.

"Banana! _Banana!_"

The man stopped what he was doing - which was attempting to speak Taiwanese to the terrified couple (badly) - and beamed at her, waving.

"Jules! It's been donkey's years since I've seen you!"

"Yeah, fancy seeing you here," she laughed, in a way which suggested she suspected the man hadn't simply 'happened' to be in the same park as them on the same, gloriously sunny day.

"Hey," he called. "Get the mardy old bastard to wait up for me, would ya? I know he listens to you."

"No probs, Banana," she grinned as the red-head abandoned his attempt at a foreign language and started jogging for the bridge.

Angeline and Artemis Senior looked surprised at her antics. Sure, this was Juliet, but it was unusual even for her to begin yelling about fruit to a complete stranger for no apparent reason.

"Banana's? Where?" asked Beckett, he and Myles looking skyward as though yellow, boomerang-shaped fruit was about to start raining down on them.

Artemis Junior frowned, wondering why everyone was suddenly yelling food items at eachother in place of names.

And Butler, who would have slapped a hand over his face in exasperation would it not have obscured his vision, sighed heavily through his nose in defeat.

There was no way he was going to get away without giving an explanation now.

* * *

**Right, if you're still here, the explanation:**

**After multiple PM's, I discovered I'm not the only one who sits around thinking about Butler and his Academy days, possibly an amount that could be considered unhealthy...**

**Steinbock, as it turns out, also does this.**

**Actually, she does it rather well, as I found out when she offered to lend me seven characters to use should I decide to write about Butler's life before guarding Artemis. The backstories and characters were so good it urged me into deciding to start a new fic-set.**

**Don't worry, Lil' Rem's won't be forgotten, left behind or anything like that. This one will run alongside it and probably get updated with equal frequency - i.e, sadly not that often, but I'll do my best.**

**Actually, Steinbock (who is basically the reason this fic-set is getting written at all) will be co-authoring it with me, providing character information, scenarios and plots etc for me to work with and pre-reading everything before I post it for you guys. Not technically beta-reading, I'm still claiming all mistakes as my own, I just don't want to claim any more than my fair share of the credit for the stories to come.**

**Yup, hopefully this has piqued your interest and you're looking forward to meeting Butler's Academy mates, but I have to say, regardless of the response to this, 'All in a Night's Work' will be being posted soon - it's just too fun to write.**

**Keep an eye out for it **

**From Wolfy and Steinbock, we hope you like it!**


	20. No Quick Fix

**No Quick Fix**

**Just a quick flashback to just after The Atlantis Complex was published and I wondered how Butler would have approached Artemis slowly going insane. So I wrote this.**

**Plus I needed something up tonight for a reason you'll find out at the bottom.**

* * *

Butler drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the Bentley as they waited in the traffic.

Just four fingers hit the surface. He realised what he was doing and stopped before he had started the fifth repetition. As predicted, Artemis flinched in the rear-view mirror. Butler completed the fifth rhythm of drumming. The boy relaxed. The bodyguard started again. Stopped. Completed the fifth. With the same result.

The traffic lights changed and he stopped his drumming in order to concentrate fully on the road. Apparently he had stopped on a multiple of four, since Artemis's eyes immediately widened and he started up his own finger-drumming on the window -frame.

Butler's eyes flickered back and forth from the road to the rear-view mirror, but he waited for Artemis to drum out the sequence five times before he spoke again.

"Artemis this has got to stop," he said finally.

"What has got to stop, Butler?" Artemis asked warily.

Butler raised an eyebrow fractionally in disbelief. The young genius could not have missed what he was talking about. The constant clicking, tapping, touching. Always in multiples of five. He'd found himself doing the exact same thing yesterday and decided enough was enough.

"The tapping in fives thing," he said as they pulled onto the main road to Fowl Manor.

Artemis's stomach dropped. Had he been that obvious?

_No. Calm yourself. Butler spends his every waking moment in my company. He is naturally more observant than an average person to begin with and that coupled with being more exposed to my habits than others..._

"I'm afraid it is simply a compulsion I find myself drawn to performing at the moment. I am confident it will pass soon," Artemis bluffed easily. Or so he thought.

Butler grunted, seeing right through the facade.

_Huh. A likely story._

It had been going on for weeks now.

"Good because it's driving _me_ insane. God knows what it's doing to _you_."

Artemis flinched at the comment. Was his own bodyguard questioning his charge's sanity? Questioning his mental state? Were they the words of a faithful employee? He thought _not_. They were the accusations of a so-called-loyal friend this hired shield of muscle had become. Was Butler turning on him too? He had just reached his forty fourth birthday, discounting the added fifteen years. Four was very bad. Four meant death. Betrayal. Butler could no longer be trusted. Artemis found himself lost in traitorous thoughts. He had to do something. Had to get rid of Butler somehow. Especially before The Project presentation to The People. He'd have to think of something. Some genius plan to...

"Artemis, we're home." Butler had stopped the car a little over a minuet ago with no reaction. He turned round in his seat to study his charge's face concernedly. Something was not right. "Are you alright?"

"I am completely fine, Butler," Artemis snapped.

Butler twisted round in his seat and fixed Artemis with his best 'big brother' stare. The one that no-one could lie to, not even Juliet. The one that meant; 'I care about you. And that's rare. So I'm going to do my best to fix you, even if you don't want or like me trying to'.

"Artemis. You know you can talk to me. Anything you're worried about. I'm here for you," he paused watching the controlled expression on the teenager's face. "Now is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Artemis curled his lip. "Stop fussing when you obviously don't care for the answer."

That stung. Butler ground his teeth, controlling his temper.

"As you wish," he said neutrally, undoing his seatbelt.

He stepped onto the gravel drive, slamming the driver's door with slightly more force than was entirely necessary and headed for the back of the car. Artemis very well knew that Butler possibly only cared more about one person in the world, and that was his little sister. And that was a close call as it was sometimes. He breathed deeply and opened the door as usual. Artemis slid from the car and stormed into the manor without so much as a backwards glance.

Closing the door more gently, Butler watched him go. This four/five thing had to stop. Artemis was becoming more and more like his old self and no-one around him liked it. It was beginning to become clear to everyone that these were no normal, hormonal, teenage tendencies. Artemis would walk out of rooms with an even number of people in it, unless that digit was a multiple of five of course. This made him nervous in crowds of insurmountable numbers of people. This in turn would transfer to his bodyguard, making them both twitchy. The twins had given up playing games with four players with him. Even they had begun to suss out the truth behind the behaviour. His parents had secretly consulted psychology books, unaware that their favourite, a book by acclaimed author Dr. Dean Schlippe had been written by their patient.

It was becoming impossible to do the simplest of everyday tasks.

But still, Butler felt his annoyance dissipate slightly as his charge missed every fourth step up to the doors, stretching himself for the fifth, wobbling and pausing for a second each time, as though reaching a vital checkpoint. Self proclaimed safety. The teenage mood-swings, pointless arguments and harsh words Butler could deal with. God knows he'd had enough practice with Juliet. All that and more he could live with. But not this.

Something was seriously wrong with Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**Well this has been sat in my little library of old stuff since 23-06-10 according to my computer. So quite a while. Still, all it needed was a quick polish and I think it's come out fairly alright. I'd like to hear what you think about it, b****ut it's not really the point of this update of Lil Rems. **

**This is really just a snippet to go along with some *shameless self advertising alert***

**Over the past few weeks/months myself and HolidayBoredom have been batting back and forth a one-shot and have finally got our acts together and finished it. Because I have an nearly endless supply of half-finished and really old stuff squirrelled away and she had nothing in the pipeline, she'll be publishing it in her "Short Circuits" so look out for it there.**

**So for those of you that skipped that boring-looking bit up there:**

**Go check out "THE 'B' WORD" in HOLIDAY BOREDOM's ficlet set "SHORT CIRCUITS" because it was co-authored by me and not surprisingly I therefore recommend it haha :)**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
****O**


	21. A Lesson in Independence: Part One

**Hello There!**

**Well, contrary to my hopes, this summer has not been weeks of me getting to be lazy and being free to write everyday. On the brightside I've done some pretty fun stuff and I'm getting paid for a job I like doing. But to this ficlet! It's also probably ****_not_**** heralding my triumphant return to writing. It is, however, one of those one-shots I start writing that tend to run off into a fic in itself. But as I never intended it to be, I haven't really sorted it into chapters and don't intend to, I've just cut it in half to make it more manageable to read. Despite it being just about as long as some of my earlier full-length fics.**

**So, here goes another Butler-centric fic from Wolfy.**

**Which brings me to someone people who like my writing need to thank - Steinbock. Without her this would pretty much certainly be doomed to end up on a shelf in the realms of fics that never quite got finished or made it to FanFic. So big thanks to Steinbock for reading this through and encouraging me to finish it off and stick it up for you guys to read.**

* * *

**Bit of Important Background Info - please read or some of this really won't make sense:**

**This fic takes place during the childhood of Artemis Fowl Senior (so no, ****_not_**** the Artemis we all know and love). He is around eleven in this fic and he is two years older than Domovoi Butler.**

**So in this fic "Artemis" is Artemis Fowl the First.**

**"The Major" is clearly his bodyguard and uncle to "Junior/Domovoi" (who ****_is_**** the Butler we all know and love)**

**The current "Butler" of Fowl Manor is bodyguard to Artemis the First's father "Eugene Fowl" and is also the father of The Major and grandfather to Domovoi.**

**Get it? Got it? Good.**

**Any questions, stick 'em in a review or a PM, just please don't complain about me mentioning an older Butler when I've just said he's a kid in this, or telling me Butler is Artemis's bodyguard not The Major and that Artemis's father is also called Artemis. Ta muchly :)**

* * *

**A Lesson in Independence**

**Lesson: _a useful piece of practical wisdom acquired by experience or study._**

**Independence:_ freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others._**

By the time Artemis Fowl was nine years old, he had met perhaps twenty children of a similar age to himself. Five of whom he was related to, eight of which were his classmates, six were the children of the various staff employed by his father and the last being the youngest member of the Butler family.

This was partly to do with how most children from a rich heritage are raised and partly to do with the strict nature of the young heir's upbringing. His father, Eugene Fowl, did not approve of his son mixing with the 'lower classes', as he liked to refer to anyone born of a family with less than billionaire status. Which of course immediately struck out any of the offspring of the staff and over half of the children in Artemis's class at St. Bartelby's.

Originally, Artemis had enjoyed this treatment. It made him feel special and important that only certain,_ approved_ people were allowed to play with him. Of course this continued only for as long as it took him to realise that it also meant that he wasn't allowed to play with others who had not been approved by his father, bodyguard and nanny.

* * *

"Artemis? Artemis? Artemis, what are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing…" the eleven year-old said, turning away from the window. "I was just wondering if I would be allowed to go enjoy the weather at some point today."

"Artemis, come now. You know your studies are important," his tutor said, leaning his elbows on his desk. "And besides, the sun isn't going to disappear anytime soon."

"No," Artemis said sulkily. "The heatwave is due to continue until the end of the week. Regardless, I still don't see why I should be made to stay inside and listen to your, frankly _boring_, lecture on rocks whilst others of my age are free to run around outside."

"Ah so _that_ is what this is about," the tutor said with a sigh. "Well, as surprising as it may seem, aside from your rather insulting overview of my lesson young sir, I do agree with your opinion…"

Artemis felt himself rising slightly from his seat…

"But unfortunately for the pair of us, your father does not share the same view. Now please try to concentrate on my, as you put it, incredibly uninteresting geology lesson."

"I said _boring_, actually…"

The tutor looked close to banging his head on the table but as he was being paid a considerable amount to teach the irritable heir to the Fowl empire, he persevered with a technique he had acquired over his forty-odd years of private tutoring.

"Here's a proposition for you, how about we finish this up in the next half an hour and then you can go play outside, sound reasonable?"

Artemis made a few mental calculations. His bodyguard would currently be training in the gym and so out of the way for another hour at least, which was exactly when his lesson was supposed to finish. Most likely his tutor would get into trouble for letting him off early, but that couldn't be helped.

"Yes, that sounds reasonable. Now, as you were saying; igneous rocks…"

"Interested now, are we?" the tutor asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

"Quite, quite. Please continue," said Artemis, flipping open his notebook and scratching a sub-heading. "Half an hour, remember?"

* * *

Half an hour later, as promised, the young Fowl packed away his studying equipment, thanked his tutor and left swiftly. There was not time to change if he was going to reach the gardens before someone (namely his bodyguard) would notice he was not where he should be and probably force him to return to confines of the dreary walls of the manor. He stepped out into the sunlight, pausing a moment on the steps. The group he had been watching from the window carried on with their ball game, oblivious to his presence. This was slightly insolent when one considered their differing social statuses, but he let it slide, instead striding towards them across the manicured lawns. This was the back of the manor, where the children of the staff were allowed to play without interfering with the Fowls themselves. Artemis had visited before and knew the names of a few of the children from the records his father kept in a filing cabinet of his office (not that Artemis had been snooping), but he had never actually got the opportunity to play a game or introduce himself properly.

"Hey," he called. "Hey - you there. Would you mind if I joined you?"

"You what?" a boy about his age stopped the ball with his foot.

"Ah…" Artemis suddenly felt an uncharacteristic surge of nerves. "I… ah… was wondering if I might join in your game?"

"You's the Fowl kid, right?" another boy asked, popping a large bubble of gum.

"If by that statement you are inquiring as to which family I belong then yes, I am the 'Fowl kid' as you put it," Artemis said, attempting to hide a sneer at the boy's bad grammar. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his wish to interact with these semi-heathens.

"Right," the boy said. "Well are we gonna get in trouble if you play with us?"

"No, I shouldn't think so," Artemis said truthfully.

"And are we gonna get in trouble if we _don't_ let you play?"

"Well… no, I shouldn't think so," he repeated.

"Then get lost, rich boy," said the first boy, one Artemis recognised as the housekeeper's son.

"Christ, Giles! That's the boss's son you're talking to. Shut it!" hissed bubble-gum kid, Edward – son of the chef.

"Fine," Giles Callaghan muttered. "You can stay. But don't get in the way."

"Can you even kick a ball?" Edward's younger brother, Mark, asked cynically.

"Yes, of course I can," Artemis said indignantly – albeit a little uncertainly.

"Kick this then," said Giles, booting the ball at great force at the Fowl boy.

Artemis valiantly swung his foot at it, but it went wide, landing in a bush some twenty metres away.

"Oh well done, Fowl," Edward said flicking his chewed gum in his direction. It missed, but Artemis still flinched away, disgusted.

"Fitz is going to kill us…"

"Wait, he can't go mental at Fowl – you get it."

Artemis looked at the perfectly ploughed soil, dented by a small circle.

"Well get it then, what are you waiting for?"

"It's alright, I'll get it," a quiet voice spoke up.

Artemis span round to see a smaller boy pick his way carefully over the flowerbeds and collect the ball. He left barely a footprint and Artemis wondered exactly how he had managed to do that.

Giles jogged over, snatching the ball. "I'll take that, Lettuce."

"Lettuce? It's a football," Artemis frowned, confused.

"Not the ball, idiot –_ him_," Edward snorted, gesturing for the ball.

"Just… just try not to get it in the flowerbeds again, please," said 'Lettuce' quietly.

"Oh shove off," Giles laughed, bouncing the ball off his knee and kicking it so that it bounced off the object of his taunting.

"Yeah, it was Fowl's fault anyway," Mark added.

"Excuse me? If you had given me adequate warning then maybe I could have…"

"Come on, lads. Let's leave the girls to their flowers," Giles sneered, kicking the ball back to their self-made 'pitch' where two more boys were waiting by the jumpers serving as goalposts.

Artemis watched them go with a small sigh. He had really hoped they'd just ignore the fact that he clearly wasn't 'one of them' in terms of upbringing. But then again, it didn't seem to make all that much of a difference. The boy left behind with him was the gardener's son and he didn't seem to be any more accepted than he had been.

"Hello," he turned to the other boy, holding out a hand. "I'm Artemis, obviously. You are?"

"Lawrence Fitzpatrick," the boy said, wiping his hand on his trousers to remove some of the ingrained dirt on his palms before shaking Artemis's. "But you can call me Larry."

"Nice to meet you, Larry," Artemis said, genuinely. "I'm sorry I caused trouble."

"Oh you didn't," Larry said a little miserably. "They're always like that."

"Really? That's a little unfair," said Artemis, as they started to walk away from the whooping group behind them.

"My father is always shouting at them about kicking their ball around the greenhouses and stuff so I guess that's why they don't like me."

"Well my father isn't exactly popular himself," Artemis shrugged.

Larry nodded absently in agreement, then froze. "Erm… I mean no, no he isn't. I mean he _is_ popular… erm… what I mean to say is…"

Artemis laughed. "Calm down, Lawrence, I'm not offended by comments about my father. And I can wholly assure you I won't pass them on. For one, I'm not even supposed to be down here with you."

"Because I'm a servant's boy, right?"

"Well, yes…" – it was Artemis's turn to be embarrassed.

"That's OK," Larry shrugged. "I understand. See you around maybe, Artemis."

He began to walk away and Artemis grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, no – wait! I want to speak to you. You would not believe how boring it is in the manor. Could I maybe… I don't know – _'hang out'_ with you?"

"Really? _You_ want to spend time with _me?_"

"Of course, or else I would be inside learning about the geology of Ireland."

"You mean rocks?"

"Yes – do you know much about them?"

"A little. I mean, my father is teaching me to be a gardener so I have to know about stuff like that."

"Oh, I see. I have no idea why my father feels I need to know about rocks. It's not as though _I'll_ be working with them when I'm older. It would be much more useful if I was to be taught business studies, but father says he'll begin that once I turn twelve."

"My father has been teaching me about plants and stuff all my life," Larry shrugged.

"Well I suppose that's more required when you have a more physical profession in mind – like Junior, for example. I can't remember a time he hasn't been in training."

"Who?"

"Junior Butler. You know – my bodyguard's nephew. Quiet boy, does ridiculous things with planks of wood and dives into the lake in midwinter and so on."

"Oh him! We just call him The Thing, usually," Larry admitted.

"The Thing? Why on earth would you call him that? And whilst we're on the subject, why do those other boys call you _Lettuce_, of all things."

"We call him Thing because he's like that comic-book character. And they call me Lettuce because… well the call me _Wet Lettuce_ sometimes because they think I'm a wuss. I'm not… not always anyway… And it's probably something to do with my father's job too."

"What a ridiculous thought process," Artemis said. "And an unfitting nickname in my opinion. After all, you just stood up to them back there."

"Well, maybe," Larry shrugged, staring at the ground. "But everyone has a nickname I suppose."

"I don't," Artemis admitted. "Well, perhaps maybe 'Tim'. My mother calls me that. And I've never heard my bodyguard referred to by a nickname."

Well, that wasn't exactly true, Artemis admitted once he'd said it. The Major was referred to by many things and even 'Major' itself wasn't his true name.

"We have nicknames for a lot of the staff, actually."

"Really?" Artemis asked, intrigued. "What's The Major's?"

"Hulk, usually," Larry laughed. "Or else 'Oh crap – run'"

Artemis laughed with him. "And Butler? Do you have a name for him?"

"Well we reckon Hulk, The Major, I mean, is like some sort of demi-God to be that big and strong so since Butler is his father we call him The…"

"Godfather!" Artemis predicted.

"Yes," Larry chuckled. "Although please don't tell him. There's a rumour amongst the younger kids that he has giant blood in him and eats children…"

"I shan't, but that's hilarious!" Artemis laughed, for as a boy who had grown up under the protection of these 'giants', he had never held such a fear of them or anything else for that matter. "I had no idea – I don't suppose you have nicknames for myself and my father?"

"Well… not really," Larry fibbed, changing the subject quickly. "Where is The H… Major anyway? Isn't he always nearby?"

Artemis was surprised to see the gardener's boy's gaze flash around as though he expected to see the bodyguard materialise from thin air and was terrified at the prospect. With The Major, Artemis wasn't quite sure this was entirely impossible. The man did seem to have a knack of appearing at random intervals.

"Oh he'll be training Junior in the gym. I'm supposed to still be in lessons."

"Good," Larry breathed. "He scares the crap out of me."

"Really? There's no need to be scared of him. He wouldn't harm you. Well, unless you tried to hurt me and you're not going to do that, are you?"

"Not planning on it, sir."

"Please, don't call me that, Lawrence," Artemis sighed. He had enough of Junior calling him that, albeit often prompted by his uncle for forgetting. "It's weird."

"Well then don't call me Lawrence, Artemis," Larry chuckled.

"Deal, Larry."

Artemis was pleasantly surprised to find he was enjoying an intelligent conversation with someone his age. They walked further and further away from the ball game and the other children, chatting away as though they had known eachother for years. In fact, so engrossed in his talk he was, he did not even notice the dark shadow stood by a tree until they were almost upon it.

" – and I'm assuming here that you want to be a gardener when you grow up?"

"Well, it would be the easiest career choice, but I'm still not so sure it's what I want to – argh!"

The Major cleared his throat, acknowledging his charge. "Good evening, sir."

"Oh, evening Major. You startled us."

"My apologies, sir. Your tutor informed me you'd left lessons earlier than planned. I would prefer it if I was told in advance…"

"Oh come now, Major. I merely wanted to socialise with others my age, is that so bad?" Artemis cut his bodyguard off snappily. Larry winced. He'd never dare so much as step into the path of the giant Butler, much less interrupt him. "It's not going dark, I'm not out of the manor grounds, I'm not engaging in clearly _dangerous _activities such as climbing trees – what more do you want?"

"Very well, sir," – Larry watched the manservant's jaw clench slightly before he continued – "Nevertheless I came to inform you that your father requests your presence for dinner. You had probably best wash up."

Artemis sighed. "Sorry, Larry. I can't miss dinner – my father will probably ban me from stepping so much as a foot off the patio if I disobey him."

"It's alright, it's probably my teatime too now. So… erm… see you around?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, definitely. Goodbye," Artemis held out his hand again for a shake and Larry took it, slightly confused by the formality but undeniably chuffed that the rich boy had spoken to him at all, let alone befriended him.

"Bye, Artemis."

Artemis watched his new friend wander back from where they had come and hoped that the other staff boys wouldn't give him trouble.

"Lead on then, Major," Artemis said, taking his place alongside his bodyguard. "Wouldn't want to keep our fathers waiting."

It was a joke he had used since learning the family ties between the current Butlers residing at the manor and he used it often.

"Indeed we wouldn't," The Major nodded, then turned to look back at the rough path he had found his charge walking along as though expecting to see something. Finding nothing, he let out a short sharp whistle through his teeth and spoke again. "Come, Junior."

There was a rustling and the youngest of the Butlers landed lightly on the ground beside them, making Artemis jump with fright.

"Christ! What on earth were you doing up there?" Artemis asked, crossly.

The Major frowned. Clearly the influence of the other boys was having a negative effect on his charge – or at least his dialect at any rate.

"Following orders," Junior said, brushing lichen from his trousers and glancing for approval from his uncle, who simply gave him a sharp look. "…sir." The boy added hurriedly.

"Orders?!" Artemis whipped round to face his bodyguard. "Major did you order him to _follow_ me?"

The Major looked as apologetically guilty as his facial features allowed and coughed in the back of his throat, looking at his nephew in slight exasperation.

Artemis made a noise that audibly described his abject irritation. "Urgh - why must you_ spy_ on me, Major?"

"Artemis I wasn't _spying_ on you. You know full well it's my job to keep an eye on your whereabouts in case of…"

"Irrelevant!" the Fowl heir snapped. "And what's worse, you set _him_ to spy on me."

Junior kept his head low as the other boy stabbed a finger at him accusingly.

"Artemis…" The Major started, sensing a full-on 'FowlTantrumTM' on the horizon.

"No! I will not be reconnoitred by _anyone_ without my knowledge, much less a _child!_"

"As much as you dislike it being stated, young sir, you are in fact only two years his senior and still a child yourself," The Major said calmly, trying to cool the situation. As much as he was paid to side with Artemis, the boy was being a little unfair here. "And in any case, Junior is better trained than most people twice his age."

"Two and a half, _actually_," Artemis said waspishly, skipping over the 'better trained' remark as though it counted for nothing. "And as if a nine year old could provide any aid should I come to find myself in trouble, which would be unlikely whilst socialising with people my own age…"

"Artemis that is _enough_," The Major said sharply. "Perhaps your socialising with the children of your employees has robbed you of some of your manners."

"Don't attempt to pass blame – especially when Junior is no different to any of them," Artemis continued, eyes flashing angrily. "Besides, as common as he is, I have formed a friendship with the gardener's boy whether my father approves of it or not. Not that it has anything to do with you anyway."

The Major scowled. These arguments were becoming more personal as the years went by. It was to be expected. The boy was closing in on teenagerdom, after all.

"You are correct. What your father approves of you doing is none of my business…"

Artemis looked smug.

"…unless it endangers your safety – "

"Which…" Artemis started.

" – which," The Major continued firmly. "Is compromised by your associating with the children of the staff without my knowledge."

"But…"

"No buts, Artemis. Your father employs me to guarantee your safety and how I chose to ensure that is up to me. Whilst I am on the matter, I would like to think you have the maturity not to take out your irritation on Junior. He has no say in the matter and neither do you, understood?"

"But I…" Artemis started, mouth open in indignation.

"Artemis," said The Major in a voice with an undertone that even Junior dreaded. "I expect better from you, young man."

And it was this expression of disappointment that eventually cowed the young heir, rather than the man's argument.

"I understand," he said quietly. "I apologise – to the both of you."

"Good. Now let's put this behind us and try to get through dinner without your father hearing of you skipping the last half an hour of your classes."

* * *

Despite the telling-off, it would not be long before Artemis would seek out his new friend again – albeit this time with The Major's permission. As the weather began to break, the pair could be found in the shelter of the library, somewhere Larry had never been allowed access to before, pouring over books of their various topics of interest whilst the rain poured outside.

On sunnier days they braved the garden and, albeit grudgingly, were allowed to at least _watch_ the other children play football and once were permitted to join in a game of tig, although The Major watched from a distance during this game and it was short-lived once someone pushed his charge a little too hard in the back for his liking.

It was on a slightly overcast day that Artemis and Larry, at the time reading under a tree, were approached by Giles and the others.

"Oh heck, here comes trouble," Larry muttered under his breath.

"Perhaps not, judging by his body language he is coming over with the intention to converse, rather than pick a fight…"

"Trust me, Artemis, this is Giles we're talking about."

"Hello girls," Giles drawled.

Edward and Mark, flanking their 'leader', snickered.

"Girls? Where?" Artemis twisted round theatrically. "I don't see any young women anywhere, are you sure you aren't hallucinating, Giles?"

"Overkill," Larry muttered under his breath.

"Alright smartarse, we'll leave you be then. No need to be rude, I was actually coming over here to offer you something, but never mind…"

Artemis stood quickly. "Offer us what?"

"Well it doesn't matter now since you clearly don't want company. Come on lads, let's leave these two to their daisy chains…"

"No wait, come on. That's hardly fair," Artemis said, starting after Giles as the group walked away.

Larry brushed down his trousers and followed – this was never going to end well.

"Interested now, are we?" Giles said, lip curling in amusement. "Well I was going to offer to take you with us to the treehouse we built. We're all going this afternoon and I was going to ask if you wanted to come too but…"

"Yes, yes we do!" Artemis interrupted. "I mean, if that's still alright. I'm sorry I was sarcastic to you, I merely thought you were coming over to make snide comments."

"Which wouldn't exactly be out of character," Larry muttered.

"What was that, Lettuce?" Giles said, leering at him.

"Nothing Giles, just thinking out loud," Larry said, wishing he had never even mentioned the gang's little 'den' to Artemis.

The treehouse in question had been built over the past year or so, added to whenever the boys got chance and visited whenever they thought they could get away with their parents not asking where they were going. It was to remain a secret - that much was a sworn oath between the gang. Giles, as their 'leader' was the only one allowed to reveal its location to anyone new. That location being out of the manor grounds, across a road, through a field, over a river and into a large section of public woodland. Larry had been there only a handful of times, for to get out of the manor grounds the gang would either have to make an excuse to use the gates, or use a set of ladders to climb over the wall. This was difficult in itself, but then they had to leave somebody to lift the ladders back over the wall to let them back in. Larry was usually chosen to do this as he was strong enough to lift the ladders and nobody much wanted him around anyway. Giles was confident the quiet gardener's boy would never rat on them. Besides, it was practically a _privilege_ to be chosen for such an important task.

"Good. Because you're not coming anyway. You can be on…"

"On guard, I know," Larry sighed.

"Wait a minute," Artemis said, frowning. "Why not put someone else on guard for a change? I could ask Junior…"

"No!" Giles snapped. "You can't tell him he'd tell his uncle or someone. You aren't even allowed out of the grounds anyway – you should think yourself lucky I even asked you."

"I do," Artemis said hurriedly. "I was just hoping Larry would get to come too…"

"His name is _Lettuce_. And he _always_ stays on guard."

"Why?"

"Because I said so, now are you coming Fowl, or not?"

Artemis glanced at Larry guiltily. "I don't know…"

"If you want to go that's fine Artemis, just be careful, alright? If you guys get into trouble I'm going to pretend I never knew anything about it, alright? I don't want to get into trouble with Hulk."

Another twinge of guilt hit Artemis in the stomach and he winced. The Major would be very disappointed in him for disobey one of his key rules… But this could be his once chance to see the treehouse everyone was talking about…

"Hey – Earth to Fowl! You coming or what?"

"Yes," Artemis decided. "Of course I am."

* * *

"Hit it like you mean it, boy!"

_Thwack._

"That's more like it. And again."

_Thwack._

"Again."

_Swish, thwack._

"Good, again."

The Major saw his nephew swallow, a bead of sweat running down the side of his nose, set his jaw and complete the move again. He was impressed at least by the amount of effort the boy put in. Most youngsters would have lost interest by now, or else given up from fatigue. But not this one.

_Thwack._

But he still had to be careful how much he pushed the lad. Wouldn't want to overdo it, especially not so close to his enrolment into The Academy…

"OK that'll do," he said, lowering the mitt he had been holding at chest height. For him, not the boy.

Domovoi dropped out of his defensive stance warily, chest heaving from the effort of repeating the various strikes his uncle had asked for.

"How'd I do, Uncle?" he asked, wiping sweat from his face with the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Well enough," The Major nodded. "Try to pace yourself more. Your original ones were good but you became sloppy in the middle. I shouldn't have to remind you to watch your form. If you can't keep up 100% all the way through then work at eighty and build it up."

Domovoi's smile faded a little, but he nodded nonetheless, absorbing the information ready to apply it to the next training session.

The Major threw him a drink's bottle from the bench and sat down, patting the worn wood to gesture the boy over.

"Now then. Tell me, what is the most important rule of bodyguarding?"

Domovoi flopped onto the bench, snatching a mouthful of water before he answered.

"Never let your guard down."

"Good. Name two more important ones."

"The principal cannot be shot if you are standing in front of him."

"And?"

"Erm… Coincidences aren't?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Statement, sir," Domovoi said firmly. "There's no such thing as coincidences."

"Good lad," The Major nodded, controlling the small smile of pride on his face. "Go wash up, you can have the rest of the afternoon off."

"To do what?" his nephew asked with a confused frown.

"Whatever you want," The Major shrugged, starting to pack away the equipment they had been using.

"Can I borrow the nunchucks?" the nine-year-old asked excitedly.

The Major sighed, trying to decide if it was a good thing that his nephew considered an 'afternoon off' to be yet more training.

"I meant an afternoon _away_ from training. You'll tire yourself out."

"I will _not_," Dom said indignantly, tugging off his training shirt and scouting around for his clean one. "And I'll be careful. I promise."

"That's beside the point. I don't want you messing around with weaponry when I'm not with you. What would your mother say if you hurt yourself because I let you train on your own?"

"You said the whole point of you teaching me to use them properly was so that I wouldn't hurt myself," Dom scowled, still looking for his shirt.

"And yet it seems that you still managed that," The Major said with a raised eyebrow, poking a knuckle onto an oblong bruise running along his nephew's rib. The boy flinched, swiping at the hand and frowning when he missed it, retracted too quickly for his juvenile reactions to catch just yet. "I imagine that was the result of you messing about with nunchucks?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Dom," The Major said, mock-seriously, locating the lost t-shirt and holding it out on one finger.

"I'm not lying," Dom mumbled, snatching the shirt and pulling it over his head roughly. The Major studied his face. He genuinely didn't appear to be fibbing.

"One of the wooden samurais then? I told you your grandfather will would have serious words with you if he saw you taking things without permission," The Major said sternly, trying to work out how the boy had got into the weapon's store without him.

"I wouldn't steal stuff. You told me not to," Dom said, looking hurt at the accusation. "I probably did it climbing in the trees the other day or something."

"Hmm…" The Major intoned, unconvinced. He had seen his nephew climb and the boy had all the agility of a monkey in the trees. Besides, the bruising looked older than that. "If you say so. Now go find the other lads to play with or something. And try to stay out of trouble this time. If I find out someone has been hog-tied to an oar again I know where to come looking, remember?"

Domovoi muttered something that sounded suspiciously like: "He was asking for it" but nodded curtly. "Yes Uncle."

"Good lad."

The young Butler made his way across the gym, but couldn't resist a few leaping bounds…

"Domovoi…" The Major began warningly, foreseeing what was about to happen.

The boy twisted mid-bound to face him and then, with a flash of a grin, flipped over backwards onto his hands, completing the manoeuver with another flip before stopping just short of the door and dropping into a fighting stance before relaxing.

"Yes Uncle?" he asked innocently.

'What have I told you about warming up before you do things like that?' - was what The Major had been about to say, but he stopped himself. The boy was young and once he started bulking up at the Academy, the flips and so on that he enjoyed so much now would not only become less easy, but would also be likely be pushed to the back of his mind in favour of fighting techniques and knowledge of how to kill someone without them screaming.

"I believe you about not taking the weapons," he said instead. "And if you want to practice spinning around with anything, use those poi-poi I made you, yes?"

"Thanks Uncle," he said quietly and left without another word, leaving The Major to wonder, as he often did, what exactly was going on inside the boy's head.

* * *

"Giles?! Giles?! Get here right now young man!"

"Quick! Hide!" Giles hissed, the group of four – Edward, Mark, Artemis and Larry – quickly scurried behind the shed. Nobody wanted to mess with Mrs Callaghan the housekeeper when she was on the warpath.

"Giles Lucien Callaghan, you come here right now young man!"

"Coming Mum…" Giles sighed, slouching towards the screeching cries.

"Lucien?" Artemis said incredulously to Larry. "And he teases you about your name?"

"Shh!" Larry whispered.

Artemis closed his mouth and instead listened to what was going on on the other side of the wooden structure.

"I don't care if you're playing with the other boys, you are to take your sister with you. And you are to be inside before it starts raining. I don't like the look of those clouds, do you hear me?"

Artemis glanced up at the sky beyond the shed roof. It was almost clear at the moment, but the air was thick and heavy, sweat making their shirts stick to their backs as they stood in wait.

"It's not going to rain, Mum…"

"Don't argue with me, young man. I don't want Melissa catching a cold, do you hear me? You are to look after her and do as I say, understood?"

"Yes Mum," Giles mumbled.

"And…"

Mrs Callaghan's instructions continued until eventually Giles returned, his younger sister in tow.

"Well that's that scuppered," Edward groaned. "We can't go now..."

Disappointment washed over Artemis. So rare it was that The Major would let him out of his sight… if they didn't go now, he likely wouldn't get another chance this summer holiday.

"Yes we can," Giles said defiantly. "She'll just have to keep up."

"She'll never get over the wall…"

"I will, I can climb walls too," Melissa said, stomping a foot.

"She has a point. She's probably better than Fowl, here," Mark said, jabbing a thumb at Artemis.

"Hey that's not fair, you've never even seen me climb a wall," he argued.

"Yeah, probably because you never have," Mark said with a snort.

Artemis didn't have an answer to that, because it was genuinely true. But he couldn't see it being that difficult. Especially not if a little girl could manage it in a frock…

"I'm sure I'll cope," he said with a sniff.

"Right come on then, let's get the ladders," Giles said, leading the way to the shed. "You're not to slow us down, Lissy – you hear?"

"I won't slow you down," she said, scowling. "That posh boy will."

_Great, I am now being belittled by a six year old,_ Artemis thought. But he kept quiet, watching the boys manhandle the ladder into position.

"Right, now the electric is probably off but if you hear a clicking, don't touch the wire," Giles reminded everyone, scampering to the top of the wall like a rat up a drainpipe.

"Come on Fowl, hurry up!" Edward snapped, pushing him. "If your troll of a manservant sees us he'll skin us all alive."

_Not me he won't,_ Artemis thought to himself, then rethought that statement. If he got caught at all he was in massive trouble. _Then just don't get caught, _he told himself.

After a few slips, he managed to haul his skinny frame up the ladder and onto the top of the wall. The concrete was warm and rough on his palms and he peered down to the floor on the other side, more than a little apprehensively.

"Right, chuck the rope up, Lettuce," Edward called, leaning over to grab the coil Larry threw to him. The blue strand was knotted at intervals and sailed over the top of the wall, one end trailing behind it.

"OK, tie it onto the tree," Giles ordered, Larry running round the nearest trunk and knotting it firmly.

"Alright, it's done."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I _can_ tie ropes, remember?"

Edward rolled onto his stomach and, holding onto the rope, slid off the wall, pushing his feet out in front of him and abseiling down the other side carefully. His brother followed under his watchful eye and Artemis realised that Edward was probably under the same instruction as Giles was when it came to his younger sibling.

"You next, Fowl," Giles said.

"Me?"

"Yes you, idiot. Just grab the rope and do what they did."

Artemis gulped. Hoping it was as easy as it looked, he lay on his belly and peeked over the Manor side of the wall one last time with his feet dangling into forbidden territory.

"Goodbye, Larry. Sorry you aren't coming with us," he called, sliding backwards.

"Yeah, see you later," Larry said, checking the rope as Artemis half-abseiled, half-slid down the wall.

He managed it, getting to the bottom with nothing but a banged knee and scuffed elbows. Giles pulled up the rope, tying the end in a loop around his sister – to her indignant protests – and helped her down before following himself.

"Right then, Lettuce. You stay there with the stuff. We'll be back later," he shouted over the wall.

"Yeah I know…" Larry answered faintly.

Already Artemis felt as though they were a million miles from home and off on an adventure. He'd be fine, he assured himself. Rural Ireland was hardly dangerous. And it was this and the excitement he felt coursing through him that fuelled him on to follow the others across the farmland and into the woods, leaving his friend to hide the ropes and ladders and sit under the tree in wait for their return.

* * *

Domovoi dried and dressed quickly, scouting under his bed for the two tennis balls attached to two pieces of thin rope. The idea was put his fingers through the loop in one end of the rope and spin the 'poi-poi' in complex patterns. One day the other end of the string would have attached something rather more deadly than a fuzzy green ball, but for now it helped to work on co-ordination of moves and general reaction times. Plus, hitting himself in the shin with one of these didn't matter half as much as it would in the future.

It was still hot out, although the sky was becoming more overcast by the minute. If he was lucky, he would get perhaps an hour to wander around the grounds practicing his tracking skills before the rains came and wiped the mud clear of any animal prints. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he glanced around so see if anyone was about before sliding down the polished wood of the bannister to the bottom of the stairs.

At the door, he passed a new recruit to the security team on the way out and inclined his head to him politely.

"Afternoon, Mr. Harson."

"Ah, off to play bodyguard are we?" Harson asked, his smile just this side of patronising.

"No," Dom said, taking the comment as an insult. Bodyguarding was not a _game_, after all.

"I see. Well if you're looking for the young master, I think he's hanging around with the gardener's boy again. I saw them heading outside together earlier."

"Thank-you," the boy said curtly, swinging the makeshift practice weapons back and forth off one hand.

"I'd go get him if I were you. There's a storm due. Wouldn't want him getting his books wet now, would we?"

"No, sir," the young Butler said, swinging the tennis balls a little closer to the man's shins.

"And don't go breaking anything with those!" Harson frowned, stepping back sharply and banging the small of his back on the telephone stand. "You shouldn't really be playing with those inside the…"

But he was talking to empty space. The young Butler had already gone, vanishing down the steps and onto the wide, open lawns beyond.

* * *

The only good thing about the sun going in was that it was no longer so obviously burning the back of his neck, Artemis decided. The clouds overhead rolled tumultuously across the sky, covering any last vestiges of blue like an avalanche across a lake. The current conditions, however, were anything but cold. Artemis could feel the sweat sliding down his spine and onto his waistband. Perhaps this whole thing had been a bad idea after all. He was not cut out for all this hiking and perspiring. He had suddenly been struck with a horrible thought some twenty minutes ago. What if Giles and his cronies were actually just leading him out into the countryside with the plan of losing him and leaving him out there? But then they probably would have forced Lissy to stay behind, he reasoned. Although the little girl was currently, embarrassingly, keeping up better than he himself could manage presently. The drone of a large vehicle broke the tranquillity of the birdsong as they marched across the field. Once out of the manor grounds they had walked through a small patch of woodland (which Artemis had original assumed contained the treehouse and had been rather disappointed when it had not), crossed a country lane and climbed a stile into a field. The original 100 metres or so had been comprised almost entirely of closely cropped grass. Now they were clambering over rows of piled grass, ready for baling.

_This stuff could do with being baled before it rains, according to 'Agriculture of Ireland', _Artemis thought as he panted and struggled his way across the field behind the others. Giles lead the way with his little sister close behind, Edward and Mark following in the wake they left in the tall grass.

"How much further is it?" he called, stumbling for the umpteenth time. His grazed knee was hurting and he didn't think he'd walked so far on anything less substantial than concrete since The Major's disastrous attempt to take him and Junior camping. The result had been a meek return to the manor at four thirty in the morning and a pact between bodyguard and charge never to attempt anything of the sorts again.

"Not far once we reach the river," Edward told him unhelpfully. "Not tired already are you, Fowl?"

"Well how far is the bloody river then?" Artemis said frustratedly. "And my name is Artemis, you might as well use it."

"Alright don't get your knickers in a twist, it's just across here and over a stile. Oh and another field and a fence and a bit of wood, but then we'll be nearly there."

Artemis wanted to respond hotly with a retort involving the state of his undergarments and the inadequacy of Edward's response when the constant droning in the background cut off to be replaced by an angry-sounding yell.

"Hey you kids! Get off my land! Can't you see I'm mowing? You want to end up in a bale? Get over here the lot of you!"

The farm had stopped his tractor and flung open the door, leaning out of it and gesticulating angrily.

"What shall we do?" Artemis asked, scurrying closer to the rest of the group.

"Run, you idiot. Leg it!" Giles yelled at him, grabbing his sister's hand and towing her towards the stile. "Quick!"

"Oi, come back here!" the farmer bellowed, clambering down from the cab and lurching across the field towards them.

"You can't catch us you old fart!" Mark yelled at him.

"Be off with you then! I ain't feedin' you to me bloody cows in sixth months…"

By the time Artemis had reached the wall, the farmer had started up the engine of his tractor and was barrelling towards them scarily quickly for such a cumbersome-looking vehicle.

"Get over the stile, Fowl – else we're leaving you for Mr Richards," Edward told him.

Assuming Mr Richards was the angry-sounding farmer, Artemis climbed over the style with all the agility of a drunken monkey and fell almost face first into the product of what Mr Richards _did_ feed his cows.

"Errr… yuck!" Lissy squealed, dodging another pat herself.

"Oh come on, stop being soft…" Giles muttered, hauling her away.

Unfortunately for him, they weren't alone in the field.

"Oh heck! This field was empty last time," Edward groaned.

"It's alright, they're only cows. S'not like they're bulls or anything."

"Actually, that could be worse," Artemis informed the group, sweeping a strand of hair from his forehead and trying to catch his breath.

"What do you mean _'worse'_?"

"Well, pregnant cows are much worse to encounter. Only beaten by those with…"

"Oh look – a baby one!" Lissy cried.

"…calves." Artemis finished with a hurried glance around for the 'baby one'

"Well come on lads. We've been through here before and been ok. We'll just walk really slowly…" Giles said hastily.

With a laugh that betrayed a little of his nervousness, Edward followed suit, the group picking their way steadily across the field until they reached the treeline. After a scramble involving brambles, barbed wire and other spiky things, the five of them were in the woodlands more or less unscathed.

From somewhere far in the distance there was a noise like a boulder moving over gravel and the sky seemed to darken further. The wind picked up, heralding rain and Artemis shivered slightly in his sweat-dampened top.

"This treehouse better be good…" he muttered.

"You bet it is," Mark scoffed. "It's the best treehouse for miles. Everyone says so."

"Well if it's much further I don't think it will even count as being within miles from the manor. Look, I think I'm going to head back. It looks like it's going to rain soon and your mother did say…"

"Shut up about my mum. And you're going to go back by yourself? Good luck with that Fowl. Richards will have you before you make the road," Giles snorted. "Besides, if it_ is_ going to rain after all, best to be under the trees staying dry than out there."

And because he had to admit this was true, Artemis followed them into the trees.

* * *

Dom was never happier than when he was alone in the manor grounds. Here he could do whatever he wanted. No teachers would reprimand him for playing 'dangerously' on the climbing frame, no other kids to bully him for liking PE too much, no other adults to… well, there was no-one to stop him doing what he wanted. Which was, presently, swinging a glorified conker around his head whilst running along the top of a low wall. He refrained from making his own sound-effects as he did. The Major had told him that was a little childish for a boy of his training.

Larry, sat under a tree, watched him warily – for two reasons. The first being that the younger lad was dangerously close to ruining one of his father's best flowerbeds. The second being that this was Junior Butler – aka The Thing – and if he came over and asked where his uncle's charge was and who exactly had played a part in introducing him to the people he was with… Larry quietly closed the book he was reading and got carefully to his feet. If he moved now, hopefully he wouldn't be spotted and he could just…

Unfortunately for him, a handily placed tree root foiled his plan and he landed on his backside with a loud and unintentional 'oof!'

Dom, who had seen the boy much earlier than he had been spotted himself, was torn. He had been planning to ignore his presence, but now…

"Are you alright, mate?" he said, stopping the poi-poi mid-circle and catching them.

"Erm… yeah… yeah I'm fine," Larry said, cross with himself for being so careless. "Just fell over that's all."

"Oh OK," Dom said, relieved the boy was about to let him go without conversation. But then he remembered something. "Wait a sec – you're Artemis's friend aren't you?"

Larry nodded somewhat reluctantly.

"You haven't seen him have you? Only I'm meant to be keeping an eye out for him. For my uncle, you see."

"Oh yeah, of course. Well erm… no I haven't. Not recently, anyway," Larry told him. And technically this wasn't a lie so if the youngest Butler had already perfected using the inbuilt lie-detector his family seemed to be born with, he wouldn't suspect anything.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Larry subconsciously checked his watch.

Dom saw him do so and frowned, some deep-rooted instinct kicking in and making him look around suspiciously.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, spotting the rope shoved carelessly under a nearby bush.

"No, no… just…"

Dom took a few steps and pulled out the rope, uncovering the ladders too. "Come on, man. You gotta hide stuff better than that if you don't want people to find them."

Larry blushed and mumbled something about not really hiding it at all. Dom was about to pretend he'd never seen the rope and didn't already know about the servant's kids habits of jumping over the wall when a horrible thought struck him.

"What was your name again?" he asked. "Lee, or something?"

"Larry, you can call me Larry."

"Well you can call me Junior," Dom said quickly, getting to the point. "But hey, Larry, how many of them went to the treehouse today?"

"How do you know that anyone did at all?" Larry tried hopelessly.

"Lots of things. The rope, the scuffs on the wall, the fact I know people do it a lot and you looked at your watch like they should have been back by now."

"Alright, no need to be smart about it. I'm just not supposed to tell anyone they've gone. And they're not due back for like an hour or two or something, it's just that it looks like it's about to rain and they said they'd head back before then…"

"Who's they?" Dom asked, eyes narrowing again.

"Oh you know, Giles, Edward, Mark and Giles's little sister…"

"And…?"

"And… well…"

"Larry?" the nine-year-old asked with all the seriousness of someone twice his age. "_Who else?"_

"And Artemis," Larry admitted reluctantly.

Dom looked at him seriously. "Really?"

"Yeah… sorry…"

Thunder boomed in the distance and a few raindrops began to spatter onto the dusty ground.

"Ah crap."

* * *

The rain did not begin gradually, but instead as though someone had turned on a tap. They reached the river and Giles lead the way across the stepping stones, as slippery as they were becoming.

"Is there not a bridge we could cross at?" Artemis asked, after watching Mark slip into the knee-deep water and graze his shin.

"Yeah, but it's like way down there," Giles gestured upstream. "And nobody can be bothered walking that far."

And so Artemis took a breath and all-but crawled across the stones, white fingers gripping the rough stone for dear life as he crouched and walked along almost on all fours.

"Look at Fowl!" Edward laughed.

"Come on Fowl, get up!" Giles jibed.

Mark said nothing, too preoccupied with his hurting leg to bother joining in the teasing.

"Mark's bleeding!" Lissy announced. "And Mummy told us to be back before it rained, Gile-y."

"He's alright, aren't you Mark?" Giles sighed. "And Mum told me to make sure you didn't get cold and wet. And I am doing, see? There's the treehouse over there, just through those bushes."

Artemis, who by this point was all for lying down face first in the mud and waiting for The Major to come and find him, perked up at hearing that.

"Finally!" he exclaimed. "About time too!"

"Keep your hair on, Fowl – you do remember how to climb a ladder, right?"

"Remarkably I do, Giles," Artemis said sarcastically, wiping his hands on his shorts in an attempt to dry them. "Now can we please go see this treehouse which you've been raving so much about before we get any wetter?"

"Come on then, Christ. No need to be such a baby about it, Fowl, it's only a bit of rain," Giles told him.

"But I am getting cold," Melissa sniffed. "And it's not very nice…"

"Aww come on Lissy, you can't give up now. You said you wanted to see the treehouse, right?"

His little sister nodded.

"Well come on then – this way."

Just as he spoke, the sky lit up for a split second and a few seconds later thunder crashed, much closer this time. Lissy screamed.

"No, no. I don't want to go anymore Giley. Can't we come again on a sunny day?"

"No Lissy. It's now or not at all."

"But I want to go home," she sniffled.

Giles sighed.

"Fine. Fine then. One of you two take her home," he pointed between Edward and Mark.

"I'm not taking her," Edward said immediately. "I'm coming to the treehouse."

"Well I don't want to either," Mark retorted.

"But you're scared of thunder," Edward said loudly.

"No you're scared of it!"

"I am not! And you should go back anyway to get a plaster on your leg."

"Well I don't want to go back by myself…"

"You won't, Lissy will be with you," Giles pointed out.

"Well she doesn't count!"

"I want to go home!" Lissy wailed louder than any of them.

"Alright! Jesus! Ed you take the little kids back and I'll take Fowl to see the treehouse. No point coming all this way and not seeing it. That sound OK?"

Edward looked like he was about to say 'No' when Lissy squealed again.

"Oh what now?!" Giles snapped.

"My feets are wet!"

Giles turned to tell his little sister that she was probably wet all over and it was dry in the treehouse, but then he saw why she was making such a fuss.

In the few minutes they had been stood arguing, the river had risen almost a foot higher, quietly bursting its banks and spreading wider across the forest floor.

"Oh heck!" Giles yelped, searching for the stepping stones amongst the rising water which had gone from a clear stream to a muddy river in a matter of seconds.

Another flash of lightening and clap of thunder had them all jumping and Artemis spoke up.

"Maybe we should all go back. This is sheet lightening at the moment but if it changes to forked we will be in real danger under these trees."

"Alright then clever-clogs – how do you suppose we get back across then?" Giles asked, gesturing at the racing water.

"Well we could always try and cross at that bridge you were talking about?" Artemis suggested.

"He's probably right, Gi," Edward shrugged, putting an arm around his brother who was wide-eyed and pale faced.

"Oh alright then!" Giles said again. "We'll go back."

And together the bedraggled bunch began to make their way upstream toward the wooden bridge.

* * *

The first few rain drops knocked against the window as though the storm was asking permission to begin. Mrs Callaghan got up from her chair with a frown.

"I told that boy to be in…" she muttered, peering out of the window at the darkening world beyond.

But her son and the other boys were nowhere to be seen. Pulling on an anorak she opened the door with a face rivalling the thunder itself and strode out into the manor grounds to find her children.

When after ten minutes of searching she could not find any of them, she began to worry.

_Don't be stupid, they've probably snuck inside. I'm sure I saw the Fowl boy with them when they all ran off to hide behind that shed,_ she told herself, climbing the steps to the tradesman's entrance in hope that the gang of children would be hiding in the kitchens and not somewhere they would damage with their muddy shoes – which of course, she would have to clean. But before she could open the door, it was pulled inwards and she was almost bowled over by the giant that stepped through it.

"Oh!"

"Apologies, Mrs C.," he rumbled, helping her inside. "Didn't see you there."

"No, it's quite alright. I don't suppose you've seen my son?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the current Butler of the manor said with a frown. "He went out looking for the young master and my grandson some time ago now."

"I haven't seen him. Are the boys not inside? I was hoping to find my Giles in there, keeping out of trouble, preferably."

"I haven't seen any of them," the old bodyguard told her. "I checked the security cameras earlier and Junior left via the main doors, but none of the others came in."

Mrs Callaghan chewed her lip worriedly. "I don't like the thought of them out in this storm, you know, Butler."

"Agreed. Especially young Artemis," he said, scouting the land for sight of his son before closing the door. "I suppose we best speak to Harson, see if he knows anything."

Butler snorted. "I severely doubt that."

* * *

The Major stomped irritably towards the gardens.

"Bloody kids," he growled.

Although he hadn't exactly given Domovoi instruction to be back inside by the time the storm hit, he would have thought it was common sense… And as for Artemis, the boy had promised he would be spending the day reading with his new buddy, yet he was neither in the library or the gardener's residence and it was highly unlikely he would still be outside now.

The root of The Major's irritation was not only that he couldn't find his charge – an error of gargantuan proportions for any bodyguard – but this weather would have been ideal to get Domovoi outside doing some storm training.

Ah well, it would appear he was doing some of his own. A little rain wouldn't kill him. The Major was about to say 'sod it' to finding his nephew in the grim weather and head back inside where no doubt Artemis had found somewhere obscure to read , when he saw the ladder propped up against the wall. His heart-rate picked up by a dozen beats per minute and he slid a wet hand into his equally sodden jacket onto the butt of his gun.

Had someone broken in?

It seemed unlikely, but then the electric fencing which ran along the top of the wall was switched off during the day – and storms – so it was plausible. But then why would the ladder be on the inside of the wall? Unless they were very close by…

He sunk into a crouch, creeping forwards towards the ladder as stealthily as a tiger on the hunt. But at the base of the ladder there were no footprints large enough to be that of an adult. He paused, glancing around for anything else that might tell him what the hell was going on. There near the wall, highlighted by their florescent colour, were his nephew's makeshift poi-poi.

He scooped them up with a frown.

"What are you up to?" he muttered, looking up at the wall and wondering why on earth he would bother climbing over it.

Ducking under the nearest tree for shelter, he stood on something left lying in amongst the roots. He picked it up carefully, flipping open the cover to see a name scrawled in neat writing across the top of the first page. It was a book. But not just anyone's book. It was Artemis Fowl's.

The Major took a long, hard look at the ladder and the wall. He could see the scene playing out before him. Artemis and Lawrence reading quietly, the other staff's sons daring eachother to cross the wall. His nephew turning up and joining in. Artemis thinking he was safe if he had a Butler with him, even if it was a young one because after all The Major himself had endorsed the boy's abilities to guard him. Following them over the wall and getting caught out in the storm…

_Ah shit._

* * *

**Well there goes the first half. Second half can be up as soon or as late as demanded.**

**Would love to hear what you think, so drop us a review if you feel like it. Also would like to know whether you're happy to have me back or you'd rather I stayed in my little writing hole and kept my Butler-centric musings to myself haha :)**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	22. A Lesson in Independence: Part Two

**Thanks to: _2whitie, Crazy Female LEPrecon, Jolinnn, 44Lefty, Sandd, HolidayBoredom_ and of course _Steinbock._**

**Since I can't reply personally to you brilliant anonymous reviewers:**

**_44lefty -_ All of my fics are pre-written before any part of them is posted so thanks for the suggestion but it's too late for this one haha - hope you enjoy the rest :)**

**_Sandd - _Thanks, that makes me feel pretty good about myself haha :)**

**Now onto the second part of the fic! Enjoy folks! :)**

* * *

**A Lesson in Independence: Part Two**

* * *

The rain beat down on Larry's head, plastering his blonde hair down over his face and trickling down into his collar. Alongside him Junior wiped a hand across his eyes and checked the road was clear before they crossed.

"This is such a bad idea. We should have got an adult…" the gardener's boy said miserably.

"Yeah, probably. But by the time we did that they'd be even further away. Plus so long as we all get back before anyone notices, none of us will be in trouble. Now come on, which way is it to this treehouse?"

Larry took a breath, almost ready to tell Junior to stuff it and go back home for his dad or the other boy's uncle. But then he thought of Artemis and how it was, technically, all his fault the Fowl boy was out here in the first place.

"Across this field, come on."

He climbed up and over the slippery wooden stile and into the field, heading towards a stationary tractor.

"I hope I can remember the way. Like I said, I've only been there a few ti-_argh!"_

"Bloody kids! What did I tell you about being on my land, eh? What did I tell you?"

Larry was hoisted almost into the air by a ham-fisted grip.

"And you, skulking by my tractor – don't think I haven't seen you!"

The youngest Butler stepped out from behind the wheel and towards the man.

"Sorry, sir. But we were just looking for our friends.

"Well I ought to give you all a right good hiding!" the farmer yelled. "Starting with you, lad!"

He drew his hand back to hit Larry, but before he got even halfway into his swing, a smaller fist ducked under his guard, hitting him solidly in the armpit, following it up with a punch to the solar plexus.

_Swish, thwack!_

"_Ooof!_" the farmer dropped Larry in favour of clutching at his gut.

"Run!" Dom yelled, hoisting Larry by his hoodie and dragging him across the field.

Luckily for them, Mr Richards was not built of a stature made for running after trespassers, particularly when the trespassers were two younger, fitter boys and _especially_ not when one of them had just winded him.

"Jump over! Quick!" the budding bodyguard shouted, forcing Larry up onto the wall and boosting him over before following himself.

Larry landed heavily on the other side, rolling out of a patch of nettles and hissing his teeth at the pain.

"Oh ouch – why did you do that? We could have got over the stile."

"Maybe, but then he might have shot us."

"Shot us? Shot us? Jesus Christ, Junior what the hell does your uncle brainwash you with? This is rural Ireland, not a warzone!" Larry yelped, almost hysterically as he looked for a dockleaf to calm the itching of the nettle stings.

Domovoi looked a little sheepish. "Well he _is_ a farmer, right? He probably has a shotgun…"

"And enough common sense not to shoot kids with it, I would think," Larry muttered irritably, scrubbing at the raised bumps over his arms and legs.

"Fine, I'll let him lamp you one next time, should I?" Dom said, turning away and noticing the cows. "Ungrateful little shit."

"Hey… woah, that's a bit harsh. No need to swear," Larry said, a little shocked and wondering where the nine-year-old had heard such language. "I'm sorry, alright? Thank-you for stopping him from hitting me."

"Doesn't matter," Domovoi said quickly, changing the subject. "Now where's this treehouse?"

"Across this field and into the woods."

"On you go then. Mind the cows."

"I don't like cows," Larry admitted. "I have an uncle who was trampled by a herd of cows.

"Then don't scare them," Junior said, as though this was simple.

One heifer turned her large head towards them in a docile manner and Larry stepped past her, giving her a wide berth.

"And don't look them in the eye," Dom warned quietly. "Just wander past, nice and relaxed, like."

Larry walked on, not taking his eyes off a large cow that was plodding towards them across the ground, sliding in sheets off her sleek coat.

"Junior, that one's coming for us…" he whispered.

"No it isn't, it's just looking for a nice patch of grass. Keep moving," Dom said, pushing him in the back. "How do we get over the fence?"

"Normally we sort of jump it. Or put a jumper over the wire and get over that way."

"Right, OK. Jumping it is then."

The cow mooched closer.

"Junior I really think that cow is…"

And then he stumbled, arms flailing. Domovoi grabbed his shoulder, attempting to stop him from falling. Unfortunately, although one day this would be as easy as breathing itself, he wasn't quite quick or large enough yet to stop the other boy from landing on his hands and knees with a yelp, or to stop himself from landing on top of him and rolling onto the wet grass. There was a moment of silence before Larry started to laugh.

"You have cow muck on your face!"

"Yeah, but you have it all over your front," Dom grinned.

They scrambled quickly to their feet, wiping the dubious mud on their trousers and laughing at eachother.

The cow that had been following them snorted, swinging her head and calling the whole herd to watch with a stomp of her hoof.

"Ah crap," Domovoi said, smile sliding off his face along with the dirt.

The entire herd of fifty cows and calves turned to stare at them with distrustful eyes. The cow at the front lurched towards them, head low and swinging.

The sky flashed a bright white, thunder booming a mere second or two after. The cow, already spooked, perhaps thought that the two small attackers had instigated this scary noise and took this as a cue, lurched towards them as one.

"Run!" Dom shouted for the second time that day, pushing Larry ahead of him.

The gardener's boy sprinted faster than he had ever moved before, the fence fast approaching.

"Keep going! Jump the fence!"

"But the wire…"

"Nevermind the wire – mind the bloody cow!" yelled Domovoi, turning to wave his arms and make _'whooshing'_ noises as he ran, which had the opposite effect of what he had intended and instead of putting her off, enraged the cow further.

Larry reached the fence and rolled himself over it, catching his hoodie on the wire. Domovoi leapt over him, continuing his run into the woods as the cow caught up.

"Help!" Larry yelped, tugging at his jumper. "Hey wait, I'm stuck!"

Domovoi turned, feet slipping on the wet leaf litter. The cow was still snorting and tossing her head at them, but backed off as he ran back towards them, pulling his multi-tool from its pocket on his belt.

"Hold still," he warned, cutting Larry free.

"Oh man, this was my best hoodie. My mum is going to kill me…" Larry said, looking at the giant hole the knife had made.

"Well it was her or the cow," Domovoi shrugged. "And why'd you wear your best stuff on a rescue mission anyway."

"It's hardly a_ 'mission'_. And I didn't exactly think I'd be rescuing anyone when I set out to read with Artemis today," Larry said grumpily. "Besides, we're only finding them and warning them they're in trouble. It's not like anyone is even going to need _rescued_…"

"Yeah, well…" Domovoi told him stubbornly, putting away his knife and eyeing the cow, who moved off once she was convinced they were no longer a threat. "You should always be prepared in case of stuff like this happening."

"Can I repeat myself here and say this is rural Ireland and not a war zone? The only rescue we'll have to do is if Lissy fell in a bog or something…"

And that was when a piercing scream cut through the trees.

* * *

The group had made their way to the bridge, walking up the bank to get out of the way of the steadily rising water.

_It must be raining just as heavily upstream for it to rise this fast,_ Artemis reasoned as he slid and slipped his way after the others on the thick mud.

His trainers were ruined and he wished he'd thought to bring a jacket for the thin canopy of trees did little to stop the rain and the wind whistled down the small valley created by the stream.

_River,_ he corrected himself. For the raging torrents of water could be described as little else by now.

"I see the bridge!" Edward shouted. "We better be quick the water's almost over it!"

They picked up the pace, Giles picking up his sister and piggy-backing her at a staggering jog and Edward helping a limping Mark and leaving Artemis to struggle on alone, panting.

The bridge was made of wood, supported on stone pillars – not that they could see those. Already a few inches of water rushed over the wooden slats of the bridge and around the edges, meaning a jump or wade before they could even reach it.

"We should go back downstream to the road," Artemis said worriedly. "Even fifteen centimetre of fast flowing water can knock a grown man off his feet…"

"Will you please shut up, thesaurus?" Giles snapped at him.

Artemis decided not to point out that a thesaurus contained vocabulary, not facts.

"Besides, if it's over the bridge it might be over the road by the time we get there anyway and the road doesn't have handrails."

"You're right," Edward nodded. "Are you OK to walk, Mark?"

Mark nodded, or else he might just have been shivering. Either way it seemed they'd be crossing here, so Artemis made himself consider exactly how he would manage it.

"OK, we'll go first," Giles said, stepping into the first bit of water and staggering at the force. "Hold on, Lissy. We're OK…"

"I'll help you," Edward said, wading alongside him as support until they reached the handrails.

"OK, I've got it from here – you help Mark and I'll come back for you if you need me," Giles said, setting his jaw determinedly and beginning the walk across the bridge.

It wasn't far, but the wood was slippery and the pull of the water strong. He slipped.

Lissy screamed and Artemis felt his heart lurch into his mouth, but Giles steadied himself, clinging onto the handrail with the same intensity as his sister was clinging to his neck.

They struggled on and made it to the other side, Giles depositing Melissa on the higher ground with instructions to stay there and rushing back to help his friends.

"Start across and I'll get you halfway," he shouted, getting a grip on the handrail again and starting to cross.

Edward helped Mark, limping, up onto the bridge itself.

"Hold on to that and don't let go," he said firmly. "I've got you on this side."

Mark looked terrified, but followed his brother's lead as they crossed the narrow bridge side-by-side.

"Go back Giles, I've got him!" Edward yelled. "Go back!"

There was a scary moment where Giles had to turn round in the water which had risen from ankle to calf height by now and almost got swept under the rail into the river, but they all made it, leaving Artemis standing on the other side.

"Come on Fowl, cross!" Giles yelled to him.

"I can't!" Artemis shouted. "I won't make it! I'll just stay here… someone go back and tell them where I am!"

Thunder rolled overhead, drowning out Giles's reply, which was along the lines of "No, we'll get in massive trouble for bringing you out here in the first place".

"Just do it Fowl!" Edward shouted. "You can make it – come on!"

"I can't!" Artemis cried.

He wasn't cut out for this. He really wasn't. He wasn't strong like the other boys. He liked his words and his books. He didn't want to be out here in this storm. Why on earth had he come in the first place? It was only a stupid treehouse. He'd abandoned Larry, disobeyed his father and broken his bodyguard's rules for this. It certainly didn't seem worth it now.

"One of us will have to go get him," Edward told Giles quietly.

"Yeah, I know…" Giles muttered. "You make sure the little kids stay up on the bank. I'll get him."

Edward nodded, helping Mark up to where Lissy was sat at the base of a tree, crying.

"Careful though. It's getting a bit hairy," he said worriedly.

"I know," Giles swallowed and took a breath. "Right then, I'll come back for you, you idiot!"

Artemis might have shouted a grateful response, but they couldn't hear him. Giles jumped over the water this time, only just making it and hauling himself up onto the bridge. The water was even higher now, reaching his knees - and he was taller than Artemis.

"Come on, Artemis – come towards me!" he shouted as he made the halfway point. "I'm not coming all the way out, come on!"

Artemis took a shaky step into the water, planting his feet firmly in the mud. The water swirled past his ankle, informing him rather horribly that he could indeed get colder and wetter than he already was. With some trepidation, he lifted his other foot from the solid ground and plunged it into the water, lurching forward to grab hold of the handrail, or anything else that could stop him from being swept downstream. His hand latched onto the railing and even he was surprised at the strength he managed to hold on with as he pulled himself steadily onto the wood. It was nice to feel something more solid than the slimy mud under his feet, but the water was higher the further onto the bridge he waded and he never thought he would be so glad to reach Giles Callaghan.

"Come on Artemis," Giles repeated, panting with the effort of merely staying upright after so many trips into the water. "Halfway there now."

"Don't say that," Artemis groaned with a shiver.

"Well come on then, the quicker you move, the quicker we can get back on dry land. Put your hands around me if you have to."

He said this with a bit of a look of disgust on his face, but Artemis was too scared to protest and latched his arms around the other boy's chest as Giles began to walk them forward towards safety.

"Put some effort in, Fowl, I'm not dragging you," Giles told him, annoyed.

"I am!" Artemis replied angrily, feet slipping about on the wood. "If you'd walk fast we'd get there…"

But his next word came out as nothing but a gasp as Giles slipped himself, plunging them both into the icy water. Artemis landed backside first on the wood and the water took him. Immediately he released his grip, arms flailing for something more solid to grab onto. His knuckles rattled off the metal and he cried out, swallowing water but somehow getting a grip on the strut supporting the handrail. The water dragged him under until his chest was pressed against the lower bar, water forcing him into it painfully, making it hard to breathe. Giles was not so lucky and slipped under it, instead grabbing onto the only thing between him and downstream – Artemis Fowl's skinny ankles.

Artemis screamed.

* * *

Domovoi didn't think he'd run so hard in all his life. And with his uncle's training, that was saying something. Larry was lost behind him in the storm, his feet sliding over the mud and leaves as they raced along the river towards the direction of the scream. As they got closer, he could hear more shouts – names. Giles. Artemis. Oh heck, _Artemis…_

The ground dipped sharply and he fell, sliding on his hip and regaining his feet just in time to avoid dropping straight into the water. He took in the surroundings at lightning speed: the younger kids and an older boy on the bank, shouting to two more on the bridge. No, not on the bridge - in the river. They must have fallen or something. And it was all on the one still left on the bridge to keep them from going downstream. And that boy was Artemis. They were as good as doomed. The other boy, a bit older than him, pushed two smaller children uphill away from the water and began running back down the bank towards Artemis and Giles, shouting the whole time.

Artemis was almost pulled under by the forced, wasting valuable breath on more screaming. Someone else was screaming too. Other voices shouted their names from the bank but he couldn't answer them, could barely hear them for the water rushing into his ears, dunking his mouth and nose under the water. He was going to drown, they probably both were if he didn't let go. But if he did, he would have to swim to the bank. Giles was also being forced under the water, protected only by the slipstream caused by the Fowl boy's chest.

"Hold on!" Edward was shouting. "Hold on! I'm coming for you!"

But before he could even get to the water he was shoved aside.

The metal bar was squashing any air from Artemis's lungs – it was both a blessing and a curse. Without it they would have been swept away by now, yet at the same time it was surely going to suffocate him if he didn't release his grip.

Artemis squeezed his eyes shut against the sight of Giles's head appearing and disappearing in front of him, face a mask of fear.

He daren't look to see if help was on the way. The pain in his chest was so great and he could feel the muscles in his arms weakening. He should have let go sooner. There'd be no chance of swimming to safety if he held on much longer. He slipped lower, armpits all that were holding him to the bar. He would have to let go now or else dislocate his shoulders. He relaxed his arms…

"Hold on Artemis, I've got you," a voice said, eerily calm.

_It's death_, Artemis thought morbidly. _It's death, I drowned, I'm dead, I died, I'm dead. This is what happens. Some guy comes and gets you, says 'come with me' and you go and you die and…_

"You're not dead, Artemis, come on – use your legs," the voice said again, hauling him up against the railing.

Artemis wasn't even aware he had said anything outloud but unless his saviour was a mind reader, he must have done.

"Come on, fight it!"

"Junior?" Artemis spluttered at the nine-year-old.

"Yeah, now come on, pull!"

Domovoi hauled him backwards and upwards and Artemis scrabbled best he could to help. Without warning, Giles let go of him in favour of the bridge and the sudden loss of weight almost had the other two falling backwards. Luckily Dom caught hold of the other railing and brought Artemis to his feet - not without some considerable effort, for the boy's clothes were sodden with water and their wearer was as weak as a kitten.

"Go!" he yelled, slamming his hand over his uncle's charge's and clamping it to the top rail. "Hold on tight and go!"

Artemis struggled, legs like jelly, towards the bank, Edward reaching out for him with a long branch he must have pulled from somewhere.

"Grab it Artemis, grab it!" he shouted.

So Artemis did and let himself be dragged to safety onto his belly on the mud - as undignified as this was. He was just thinking how strong Edward must be to pull him like that when he realised he wasn't alone.

"Larry?!" he gasped, surprised.

"Yeah," the gardener's boy said, a little sheepishly. "Hi, Artemis."

"You... you told Junior where we were?"

"Yeah," Larry shrugged a little apologetically. "Sorry and all that."

"No, no it's fine," Artemis lay on the mud, still panting in exhaustion. "You came back to help me after I was such an arse to you earlier!"

"Well I didn't actually know you'd be in any real trouble," Larry said, stepping across the mud carefully to help him up. "Else we would have come faster."

A thought struck Artemis with an equal measure of hope and dread. "Does The Major know?"

"No, we didn't tell any adults. We just came straight..."

Edward yelled suddenly and Artemis rolled over just in time to see Junior fall backwards, smack his head on the opposite railing and fall, crashing into Giles with enough force to sweep them both under the railing and into the river.

"Oh Christ!" Edward yelped, grabbing hold of the stick again and beginning to run along the slippery bank. Larry scrabbled after him, shouting all the while.

Artemis knew he should probably get up and try to help them himself, or at least try to comfort Mark and Melissa, but all he could think of as he saw the two boys being swept away downstream was Larry's last comment:

_None of the adults knew where they were._

* * *

The Major pulled the 4x4 into a lay-by just over a bridge currently being pounded by a roaring river and switched off the engine. It was still hammering down outside its protective shell but at least he'd managed to grab a jacket after a short conversation with his father over his knowledge of the whereabouts of his charge. Or rather lack of. At this point Artemis's father had been informed and he was unimpressed to say the least. It had not taken long for him to summon his staff and demand all knowledge of his son's recent social habits to come to light. Of course many of the parents had no idea, but Mrs Callaghan admitted to seeing the young Fowl heir hiding with her son's friends and once that had been revealed, it suddenly became apparent that he was not the only child currently missing from the manor.

"Bloody kids," The Major muttered for the second time that day, pulling up his hood, crossing the road and striding towards a gate. According to Mrs Callaghan, the manor staff children often made trips to a treehouse. Unfortunately, she did not have a clue_ where_.

_As if you wouldn't ask where your children were spending their freetime..._ The Major thought to himself.

If _he_ had had kids he would… wait, what a horrible thought. Having Domovoi around was bad enough. And speaking of the little devil… The Major had a good mind to give the boy a sharp talking to. Especially if he anything to do with the disappearance of his charge.

The Major leant on the five-bar gate, peering into the gloom for any sign of where the children might have crossed it. His quick glance over a map had confirmed his original instinct that the nearest patch of woodlands other than that owned by the Fowls was some two kilometres away, assuming they took a direct route. The land was labelled as private, but the stiles made it an easy shortcut to the woods. He was just considering whether the children would use the bridge he had just crossed and follow the river into the forest when his sharp eyes picked up swathes cut across the ragged rows of mown grass.

_Bingo._

Overhead the storm was passing over but the wind was still rippling strongly through the hedgerows. Songbirds huddled silently and miserably, gripping onto the thin branches as they swayed beneath them.

"I know how you feel," The Major muttered to the nearest one, hunching his shoulders against the wind.

"Say what?" a voice said from the hedge.

_Great,_ The Major thought. _I've finally lost it. I'm not only chatting to wildlife, I'm hearing it answer back..._

Cautiously, he leant over the top rail and located the true source voice. A squat, grumpy-looking man was sat on a plastic feed bag looking as thunderous as the sky.

"Nothing. I was just searching for a group of children. I don't suppose you've seen them?" he asked.

"Kids? Kids?!" the farmer spluttered, lurching to his feet. "Yeah I saw 'em. Damn near caught 'em too."

"Caught them?" The Major frowned.

"Yeah. Little blighters were trespassing. Only shouted at the first lot, but then two more vagabonds came wandering across the field like they owned it and I had one by the ear, I did. Would have gave him what he deserved too, the little sod, had the other one not assaulted me."

"Assaulted you?" the Butler repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Hit me right in the fecking stomach, little bastard. Ain't bin right since and I were looking forward to me sandwiches..."

The Major pieced together the picture. Perhaps young Domovoi's bodyguarding instinct had kicked in and he'd neutralised this farmer when he had grabbed the lagging Artemis, trailing behind the rest of the group.

"I'd mind my mouth if I were you, sir," The Major said with a wry smirk. "By my reckoning that's my nephew you're badmouthing."

The farmer looked shocked, but scowled still. "Then you wants to be teaching him some fecking manners. Where'd these goddamn kids come from then? I have a good mind to go tell their parent's they need a whipping."

"It's the twentieth century, sir. We don't whip children anymore," The Major said coldly. "Now if you'd be so kind as to tell me which way they went, I'll be on my way."

"Not across my land, you won't," the farmer said stubbornly. "You can be on your way along the lane yourself, lad."

_Lad? That's a new one,_ The Major, who hadn't been called 'lad' by anyone other than his father for at least a decade, thought.

"Now then, sir. I don't think you want to be getting into the same sort of disagreement with me as you did with my nephew, do you?"

The farmer squinted at him through his weepy eyes. "Is that a threat? 'Cause I'm not far off having the police down to do something about these kids. I'm sure they'd have room for you in their van, big as you are."

"I'll take that as a no, shall I?" The Major said, starting off across the field in long strides.

"Hey! Come back! You can't do that!"

The Major raised a hand to his ear as though he couldn't hear the man and began to jog towards the wall on the far side of the field before the farmer thought to get his shotgun – as fun as a shootout would be in this terrain.

He reached the wall and looked over into a field of cows which eyed him warily. He squinted past them against the wind and his sharp eyes soon picked out a scrap of red material, flapping on the barbed-wire fence.

_Ah-ha._

* * *

Domovoi didn't go without a fight. He immediately tried to sit up, hitting his head on the rail again before the water dragged him through the bridge.

His back left the wood and he went under, resurfacing with a gulp of water. The water was probably not even too deep to stand in, but it fast flowing but his uncle had told him about the dangers of trying to stand in rivers. If a foot was to get caught, the force of the river would not only break the ankle, but the power would force you face down into the river bed, after which, the chances of resurfacing alive were slim.

_Feet up,_ he thought immediately, lying on his back and fending off a large rock with his boots. It was difficult to keep them raised, the boots were heavy when dry, let alone wet.

Just in front of him Giles gasped and spluttered, limbs flailing.

"Keep your feet up! Don't try to stand up!"

"What?!" Giles coughed, eyes wide with panic.

"Don't touch the bottom - swim!" Domovoi managed to shout through a mouthful of water. "To the bank – like this!"

He rolled, pulling himself over with his arms with a windmill-like motion. But Giles was panicking, hands waving around him and just up ahead Dom could see something _very _undesirable coming up.

The stepping stones. Solid, unforgiving rocks set like sentries to catch them. Debris was already building up on what little was left protruding above the current, but it would be more than enough to bring them to a sudden and painful stop if they hit them.

"There they are – there! Do something!"

Domovoi thanked his lucky stars that at least Edward had had the sense to run along the bank with them. He wasn't keeping up, but at least he was trying to help and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to hold something out for them to grab onto.

Dom hauled himself faster downstream, which seemed counter-productive to anyone on the bank, until they saw him grab hold of Giles by the collar and lock his arms round his torso, kicking as hard as he could for the bank.

"Kick, for God's sake!" he yelled, punching the other boy in the back to get his attention. "Kick!"

Either Giles heard him, or it was simply him struggling to break free. Either way their efforts were futile and they were swept towards the fastest flow of the water – a particularly low stepping stone.

_This is going to hurt,_ Dom thought.

At the last second, he flipped over, trying to force Giles to do the same. He pushed his way past, taking the lead as he tried to clear the submerged obstacle whilst sustaining the least damage, torso dragging over the stone. Giles soon followed and although Dom rolled, fingernails scrabbling over the rock, it was too slippery to get a grip of. His fingers dug into a small indent, but he couldn't hold it, especially when Giles crashed into him and dragged him backwards. With no idea what downstream held, Domovoi resigned himself to the choice between sticking with the rapidly tiring Giles, or attempting to get to the bank before he was too weak himself. Already tired from his morning of training, that was going to happen sooner, rather than later, as it was.

Although he didn't know it, time was running out to make the choice. With every failed attempt they were being swept closer and closer towards the road bridge. The bridge itself was not large, barely more than a trio of concrete pipes forcing the road into a slight hump. Which was exactly the problem. With the volume of water being pushed through them, here was no longer any room for air in the pipes. If they were swept through one of those, they would just have to hope they didn't get stuck in the middle and with their limbs tangling together, it was a morbid possibility that they wouldn't make it through to the other side.

"Giles! Whatsyourface – grab this! Grab it!" Edward was screaming at them, waving a branch at them. Dom didn't care that the boy didn't know his name, all he cared about at that moment was grabbing that thin piece of wood. Giles struggled weakly, Edward unable to keep up with the branch. He dropped back into the distance and Dom spun back over onto his back, stomach lurching as he saw the bridge come into view. Debris was piling up over the entrances of two of the pipes, the water forcing itself with ever more effort down the one still left clear.

"Giles! Kick!" he yelled, grabbing the other boy and trying to shake him into action. "Kick!"

But Giles was spent, arms flapping weakly, head going under with more and more regularity. Dom felt a jolt of fear spreading through his body. He had swum in a raging river before, of course. But then his uncle and grandfather had been nearby, ready to grab him if the situation should become dangerous. It had been fun. Training was always fun. But this wasn't. This was terrifying. Out of control, dangerous and unstoppable. It finally hit him that death was actually an option here, and the thought gave him one last boost of energy.

"Junior – here! Kick, boy! Fight it!"

For perhaps a second Domovoi thought his mind was playing tricks on him in its desperation for someone to jump out from behind a tree and tell him that it was all a game and that he was safe and even laugh at him for being so gullible to think it was all real in the first place.

"Come on – fight, boy!"

And then he saw him. Before the bridge was a figure stood, solid and immovable in the river, water roiling at waist height. His uncle.

The Major had been walking upstream, following the trainer-prints of the group of children after he had bypassed the cows and crossed the fence at the site where the torn hoodie had been caught, when he had heard the shouting. Realising someone must be in the water – and in trouble at that – he had bashed a path through the undergrowth to the bank and seen the two shapes in the water. Originally he hadn't known which of the children it had been and was filled with a sinking dread that one of them was Artemis… With only a second's worth of a check that the water would be shallow enough for him to stand, he plunged into the river up to his waist, the freezing water attacking every square centimetre of skin. He ignored it, wondering only if it made him a bad person that he was unbelievably thankful that his nephew was one of the pair. At least he would do something to help save himself. Or at least he should…

"Fight it!" he roared over the noise of the water.

Giles was past it, that much was clear, so Domovoi didn't waste time shouting at him anymore. Instead he gripped a handful of his t-shirt and hauled with all the might in his nine-year-old body.

And it worked. Amazingly _- miraculously -_ it worked. Giles was suddenly caught in a slipstream of water that took him almost straight towards The Major. The man leant out and grabbed hold of the sodden boy, dragging him into the slight eddy he was stood at the edge of and reaching out for his nephew. But Dom came towards him at a lower angle and he was almost beyond lunging for.

"Come on, boy! Kick!" The Major bellowed and Domovoi saw for the very first times what could actually have been _panic _in his uncle's eyes.

Domovoi tried. He really did. But the river was stronger even than Butlers. The Major made a split-second decision and took a step further into the river. But the bed dropped away suddenly and all he achieved was plunging himself and the meekly gasping Giles straight into the freezing water. He reared upwards, water cascading over his head and shoulders before his feet planted solidly again and stopping them from being swept downstream. He flung out the arm not hold the semi-conscious preteen, eyes locked on his nephews.

"Reach!"

Domovoi pushed every muscle in his body to its maximum, his fingertips brushing his uncle's... but The Major's hand snapped shut futilely and his nephew was swept from his grasp.

The Major didn't waste time swearing, he simple judged how far it was to the bank and flung Giles like a skimming stone. Edward and Larry, who had finally caught up with them, splashed into the shallows and dragged him completely out of the water, shaking and shouting at him as the housekeeper's boy coughed and spluttered back to consciousness. But The Major never saw any of this. He had thrown himself into the water just in time to see Domovoi, arms still pulling at the water, legs still kicking, disappear into the black maw of a drainage pipe.

* * *

He couldn't breathe. On all sides there was solid rock, he could no longer move enough to swim. He could only hope the pipe wasn't blocked. And that he could hold his breath for long enough. Bubbles rushed from his mouth and nose, unbidden. He clamped his jaws shut in an attempt to stop his lungs drawing in air automatically. His hands still stretched out above him, his knees battering off the base of the pipe with every kick and with no idea how far through the pipe he was, he fought it. His feet hit something and with the last of his strength he braced his palms against either side of the tunnel and, with a last-second change of tact, pushed himself backwards. The blockage was a net of broken wood. It barely moved. There was no light in the tunnel. There was nothing but the roaring of water in his ears. And so by the time he lapsed into unconsciousness, he barely noticed.

* * *

The Major slammed into the bridge with more force than he would have thought possible. A normal man might have broken a rib, but normal men don't undergo dubious 'bone-strengthening' training during their teenage years at a certain bodyguarding academy.

"Domovoi!" he bellowed, not caring who heard him for now. Anyone who could would have to either be on the bridge or in the water. And they were alone. It would be up to him to save the boy. He braced himself against the bridge and thrust an arm up to the shoulder into the pipe, desperately feeling for the youngster's arms. Pushing himself into the narrow tube would be suicidal at best. He would simply be stuck at the chest, presuming he managed to get in that far. If there was so much as a stick of debris ahead in the tunnel, Domovoi would be trapped and drown. He daren't even begin to consider that others had been swept downstream before him _– please not Artemis too, please –_ and that their bodies would be what stopped his nephew from being flushed through to the other side. His best hope was that the boy had shot the five or so metres through the pipe, turning up battered and bruised but wholly alive and spluttering - preferably with enough sense left to make an effort for the large eddy he knew to be downstream. With this thought in mind, The Major cleared the way for the water to give its full force to encouraging this eventuality. Maybe, just maybe, he could use the roaring water to his advantage. With a tremendous effort, he pulled himself up and onto the bridge just in time to see someone leap onto the low wall which bordered it and, with a minuscule pause to consider his options, dive over the edge of the other side. He heard the splash of the other man hitting the water and rolled over onto the concrete, gravel sticking to every droplet of wet. Not daring to waste a second to breathe in the thick air, he scrambled to his feet, barely registering that there was another car pulled up alongside his own a little further down the lane, blocking the road. He smashed his chest into the side of the bridge and leant over the edge, half-desperately, half-dreading what he might see – or the fact that he might see nothing but the swirling, debris-ridden water below.

But there, just to the edge of the roiling slipstream in the patch of relatively calm water littered with broken branches and thick scummy foam, a large figure hauled himself out of the river, a limp bundle slung over his broad shoulder. As soon as he reached the mud that posed as dry land, he flipped the boy onto his back, watching for any response that would mean breathing for him would be even more dangerous than leaving him to it - pushing water deep into his lungs instead of helping to expel it. But the boy was as still as the grave and the rescuer lowered his head to the pale face, giving a few resuscitating breaths before pressing down hard on his chest once, looking for a response before pumping again.

The Major felt like his own heart was being squeezed with every unsuccessful push.

What would he tell Domovoi's mother? He tried not to think of the severe telling-off he had been planning for the boy once he found him. Guiltily, he wondered if it had been Domovoi's fault at all that his charge had gone – was _still_ – missing. For he was yet to ascertain Artemis was safe, or even in the area at all. What was to say he had been with the staff boys at all? He could be back at the manor after all...

He had to look away. Look away from the last vestiges he had left of his brother slipping away before his eyes. He should go look for Artemis. He should go find his charge and do his god-damn job. But at the same time, his father, ever the consummate professional, had clearly abandoned his own principal for the moment, fighting to save an illegitimate grandson he had never quite seemed proud existed.

Time seemed to slow. Before long, Alexandr Butler would stop. He would look up to where he would already know his son was watching on helplessly and he would shake his head silently. And then The Major would have to swallow his emotions and turn to his employer, who was probably nearby, and explain to him that no, he had still not found his son but yes, he would continue the search immediately.

"Please. Come on, _please_…" he whispered, heart hammering in his chest as though encouraging Domovoi's to do the same.

At the sixth push Domovoi lurched upwards, hacking up a lungful of murky river water and his grandfather, shoulders relaxing in relief, looked up at the bridge and nodded once.

"Got the blighter," he mouthed.

The Major dropped his head into his hands, wiping his face clear of water and letting out a shaky breath of his own. His muscles were vibrating with adrenalin. Just a few seconds to calm down and he'd be back to his usual self. Just a few sec…

"Oh my God! Is that Artemis?" a voice said. "Shit – Butler! Major - is that my son? Is it my son? Is that Timmy?"

The Major heard a car door slam behind him and swallowed any remaining emotion.

"No sir, that's Junior."

"Oh... right," the relief was clear in the way the man's shoulders slumped, but he recovered the expression with a guilt-ridden grimace. "Is he... is he ok?"

"He's breathing, sir."

"And Artemis?"

"Artemis is…" The Major was about to say _'not here'_. When he heard Mrs Calllaghan cry out, leaning over the other side of the bridge.

A moment of horror shot through him at the thought of the weaker boy going through the same thing as his nephew, but as he span, he saw a group of children.

"He's there!" she shouted, on the edge of hysteria.

"Over there," The Major finished, as though that was what he had intended to say the whole time.

"He is?" Eugene Fowl exhaled in relief. "Where?"

"With Giles and Lissy and the others – oh my babies!"

"Where exactly?" Eugene repeated, aiming his question at the younger bodyguard for some unknown reason.

"Just the other side of the bridge, sir," The Major jerked his head towards the regrouped children, gathered around a now kneeling Giles, frightened and chattering like startled monkeys.

"Artemis!" Eugene yelled over the edge of the bridge.

Artemis's gaze snapped up, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Father?"

And then The Major saw something he had never seen the Fowl patriarch do before now.

The man ran.

He ran to the gate that led down to the riverside. Ran down the steps to the bank, the other parents in tow. Ran towards his soaking son. Ran until he had grasped him in both arms, regardless of the cold and the damp and the smell and squeezed him so tightly in his unremarkably muscled arms that the boy thought his ribs would crack.

The Major was torn between the two sides of the bridge. On one side, his father and nephew were sat on the bank, the elder helping the younger to expel any last vestiges of water from his chest and talking to him in a low, uncharacteristically comforting voice. On the other side his charge was being embraced by his own father. This being a rare occurrence, he wanted to stay as unobtrusive as possible. He could see his charge was safe from here. Mrs Callaghan was on the phone, doubtless calling and ambulance. He counted the children, checking they were all present and correct and, once he was sure they were, he allowed himself a long, shaky exhalation. That had been far too close for comfort.

"Father?" Artemis repeated, head buried in the man's expensive deer stalking jacket, thrown on at his own bodyguard's insistence as protection from the rain.

"Oh my son, my boy," Eugene murmured, still shaken from the moment he had thought it had been his own offspring he had seen Butler resuscitating. "I am so sorry."

"For what?" Artemis asked, confused.

"For everything. For not letting you have friends your own age," he gestured at Larry who smiled nervously. "For being so controlling. For making you think that you had to pull stunts like this to have a little amusement. I apologise. And I promise you, things will change. We will have a talk. There will be a review of our rules."

"Thank-you Father, really, I am grateful in advance. But could someone please phone an ambulance or something? I think Giles may need attention," Artemis said seriously. "And what became of Junior? Is he OK? And The Major?"

Eugene Fowl smiled, sure that his son got his caring side from his mother. "Of course. Butler got a little damp in the proceedings I must admit, but they're all out of the water. You needn't worry."

Artemis relaxed. His father's bodyguard was a man he respected, now even more so than ever. His father gave him a once-over, taking in the various scrapes and bruises Artemis had received mostly during his trek to the site of river crossing rather than in the water itself.

"I want you checked out yourself, son," he said, putting his arm around the boy's shoulders and leading him back towards the car. "Come on, we'll wait in here. I'll get the heating on."

The others followed them, Eugene assuring them that there would be enough room in the two cars for all of them whilst they waited for the ambulance.

Artemis stayed close, barely daring to give more than an apologetic glance at his bodyguard as he wondered if his father would even be able to decipher how to turn on the fans in the vehicle.

"Major – we should like to sit in the cars, would you open the other?" Eugene asked, snapping the younger bodyguard out of his stupor.

"Of course, I'll get the pair heated up sir," he said quickly, glad of something to do.

"Excellent. I would ask you to inform the emergency services but I think Mrs Callaghan is already seeing to that," the Fowl said, nodding towards where his housekeeper was jabbering away into a telephone.

"Yes sir," The Major agreed, opening the car door and starting the engine, flipping the heating system to full and opening the back doors to allow his employer and the other staff in.

"Oh and Major?"

"Yes sir?"

"Please feel free to go see to your nephew. I know you must be concerned. Please tell Butler I give my permission for either of you to go with Junior in an ambulance should he require one. I'm sure one of the men can drive the vehicles back to the manor if needs be."

"Yes sir. Thank-you sir," The Major said, itching to follow the suggestion.

"I expect the full story from you once this is all resolved, Major," Eugene Fowl said seriously. "Until then, tell Butler to come and see me once he's done with Junior."

"Yes sir," The Major said, too distracted to care about the uncomfortable conversation that would have to be held later.

The door had barely closed before he left the other staff members to deal with starting the other car and set off at a swift walk for the steps leading to the bank at the downstream side of the bridge.

He met the rest of his family at the bottom of the steps.

"Are you alright?" he demanded, gripping his nephew by the shoulders and checking for light in the boy's eyes.

Domovoi looked at him fairly blankly but gave him a shivery smile from under his grandfather's sodden jacket.

"He'll live," the eldest Butler said with a slight shake of his head. "He was lucky I saw him come out of the other side."

There was a hidden message of _'we were all lucky'_ within the statement, but The Major shook it off, still keeping one hand on his nephew's shoulder and addressing his father.

"Mr Fowl says to go see him once you're done here. Mrs C is ringing an ambulance as we speak for her own son and I know he wants Artemis to go with them for a check-up at the hospital. I could take Dom with me and go with them if you want to stay get dried off and meet Eugene at the hospital."

"No, it's fine," the older bodyguard said, pushing his grandson towards The Major and loosening his tie and collar of his shirt. "I've a spare jacket in the car. I'll take one vehicle to the hospital with the Fowls when the ambulance gets here – you take Domovoi and the rest home in the other. He doesn't need to see a professional. Just a hot shower and so on – you know the drill."

The Major took in the sight of his soaked father, unsurprised that the man had disregarded his own wellbeing in the matter and his nephew, who was equally as cold and wet, but also as equally breathing and would soon overcome his ordeal. 'The drill' was clearly just code to avoid the boy worrying himself about secondary drowning but The Major knew to look out for the signs. He would barely be letting the youngest Butler out of his sight for the next few hours.

"You're sure you don't want me to follow you once we're sorted?" he said, knowing better than to ask Alexandr Butler if he was alright himself, stood as he was at a river side in soaked clothes having just jumped into freezing water and performing CPR on his only grandchild.

In the distance a siren cut through the last faint rumbles of the storm.

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll watch Artemis for you," Butler said, gesturing for his son to turn round and climb the stairs. "Best get going take before it gets here. You know what paramedics are like. They see he's got a little damp and they'll want to send him in for a sodding CAT scan."

The Major smiled, pulling Domovoi closer to his side and heading up towards the cars. "Indeed. You'll have to fend them off yourself as it is, I would think."

And in that statement, he portrayed his concern for his father without sounding too soft.

Butler snorted. "I'm sure I can convince them I've been through worse."

"I'm sure you can," The Major said, opening the door to the empty car and helping Domovoi into it.

"Uncle?" the boy said quietly as he sat down. "I'm really sorry – you know, about all this…"

"Hush, boy," The Major said with a sigh. "This wasn't your fault. Get in and get the heating on, OK?"

The worry on Dom's face lifted slightly and he reached to knock the car out of gear before sliding into the front seat, clearly chuffed he had still been trusted to start the engine after the day's events. The Major closed the door behind him.

"Good luck at the hospital," he said to his father, walking around the car.

"We won't need it. I doubt they're any worse off than Dom here," the elder said with a shake of his head. "Damn dramatic civilians."

"Indeed," The Major agreed, reaching to open the driver's door now Dom had shuffled back to the other seat.

His father placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Myles," he said quietly. "No-one could have predicted this."

And in that statement, he portrayed his concern for his son without sounding too soft.

"Maybe not, but…" The Major opened his mouth to argue.

His father shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up about it, son. No-one can predict kids. And I should know, eh?"

And with that he left, straightening his shoulders and greeting his charge before giving orders to the other staff and their children to split themselves into those needing medical attention and those fit enough to go home right away, leaving his youngest son to consider that, yes, he had had it hard with him and his brother to deal with as children. And that somehow, miraculously, no lasting harm had been done by the day.

The other staff began to wander towards the car and he went to get in, eager for a quiet word with his nephew before they arrived. His father was peeling off his shirt at the back of the other 4x4, appraising it critically. His jacket, now wrapped about his grandson's shoulders, already had a large tear on the sleeve and his trousers were scuffed at the knees.

"Oh, and Major?" he called, just as the younger bodyguard was getting into the car.

"Yes sir?" The Major asked, suspicious now that Butler had reverted to his normal professional name for his son.

"Seen as though you're convinced this ordeal is your fault," the elder said, chucking the sopping shirt at him. "You'll be paying for the replacements, correct?"

The Major caught it with a scowl. His father always found a way to make him pay for the suits.

* * *

As it turned out, almost none of the others actually wanted to return to the manor before a check-up at the local A&E department. Lissy went with her mother and brother in the ambulance and Edward and Mark's father went along with the Fowls and Butler to get his youngest's leg looked at and to make sure Edward was no worse off from the dunking he himself had received. Only Larry and his father came with them in the other car.

The Major pulled away before the ambulance arrived, back onto the maze of country roads that lead back to the manor. They dropped the gardening family off at their accommodation on one side of the manor grounds, Larry giving Domovoi an apologetic glance as he closed the door and his father thanked The Major.

As they drove the short way back to the garages, The Major rolled his shoulders, feeling the water soaking into the seats and thinking, with a mental sigh of exasperation, about the valeting bill he would surely _also_ have to cough up for to get the material cleaned…

"Are you mad at me?"

The voice was so quiet The Major barely caught what was said over the whirring of the heat fans and the rhythmic _'thwump-thwump'_ of the windscreen wipers, quietly doing their job in the background.

"No, Domovoi. I'm not mad at you," he said with a sigh.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise I am not mad at you for leading Artemis astray and nearly killing yourself trying to save some idiot who got himself into a situation."

Domovoi chewed his lip for a second as though deciding how to respond to that statement.

"Speak," The Major said. "Spit it out lad, I know you want to argue your point."

"I don't want to answer you back though. P…" - he paused with a self-reprimanding bite of his lip - "People get mad when I do that."

"It's not answering back if I asked you," his uncle frowned. "In fact, it's more irritating if you disobey me by not saying anything. So go on, speak, boy."

"Well, it's just that I never took Artemis anywhere. I found that Larry the gardener's kid at the bottom of the wall and he told me where Artemis had gone with the other kids so we followed them and then we found them and then Giles fell in the water and… well, you saw the rest of it."

The Major was quiet for a while, mulling this information over.

"I must admit that makes far more sense," he nodded. "I did think it was out of character for the pair of you. But you should have come and got me. It would have saved a lot of trouble. And the whole you drowning thing."

Domovoi said nothing, but The Major saw his shoulders relax slightly and felt strangely sad that the thought of his disapproval caused the boy so much anxiety.

"Speaking of which, how are you feeling?" he said after a while.

His nephew gave a sheepish grin from under the jacket he was draped in. "Not bad."

"All things considered," The Major added for him with a snort. He checked the heat was up to full, for even he himself was feeling the chill of the river.

"Yeah," Dom shivered. "Just a bit cold."

"Well we'll get you on some antibiotics for a week or so when we get back. Don't want you catching pneumonia with all that water you decided to breathe in, eh?"

"I'll be OK," the boy said stubbornly.

"Of course you will," The Major nodded.

"Do we have to tell Mum about this?"

"You have to tell her, you mean. She needs to know."

Domovoi sunk lower in his chair. "She's going to go mental."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will. She's worried enough about me going to the Academy as it is. This'll only make her worse…"

"She doesn't want you to go?" his uncle raised an eyebrow questioningly. "She said she was looking forward to it when she dropped you off this time."

"Yeah, but that's only because…" Domovoi stopped himself mid-sentence.

He didn't continue and his uncle decided that this was the time to finally get to the bottom of whatever was bothering the boy.

"Alright then, how about this?" The Major bargained. "I'll tell her for you…"

"Really?" Domovoi beamed. "Thanks, Uncle!"

_"…if_," The Major raised a finger. "You tell me what the hell is up with you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. It's not like you to be all… twitchy."

"Well maybe I'm just getting it off you," Domovoi said hopeful his uncle would drop the point.

The Major clipped him lightly round the ear as they pulled up to the garages. "I am not _twitchy_, you cheeky little sod. It's called _alert_ and yes, you jolly-well better pick it up soon enough – but that's still not what I meant and you know it."

Domovoi lapsed into a sullen silence, looking at him like he had demanded all of his life's secrets on a plate, but The Major wasn't about to let him brush this one off this time.

"OK…" he muttered, opening the car door.

_I'll throw together some hot stew for tonight,_ The Major thought. _That'll sweeten the deal and get him talking._

To be honest he already had an idea of what it was about, he only hoped that he was wrong. If what he suspected was true, he would have to have a serious talk with Domovoi's mother. And with another person after that.

The younger pair of the three Butlers at the manor climbed the steps, brushing past Harson, who was manning the doors, without a second glance.

"Right then. You go get a hot shower, sort yourself out and come meet me in the store room for a can of coke – sound good?" The Major asked.

Domovoi nodded, looking at his boots.

"We can talk later," The Major assured him. "It can wait."

"OK," Dom repeated.

"In the meantime, bring your boots and that jacket down to dry with the rest of mine and your gramps's stuff. All my bloody kit is going to need a good drying out before I can use it again. You can help me lay it out, if you want."

Domovoi smiled a little. "Can I help you clean the guns, too?"

"If you must," The Major rolled his eyes.

The boy smiled properly this time and scampered up the stairs, grandfather's jacket flapping behind him like a heavy cape.

"And take it easy, boy. You're not invincible, OK?"

"Not yet," Domovoi said over the bannister. "But one day I will be. Just like you, right?"

The Major felt an uncharacteristic clench in his chest. The boy genuinely hoped to grow up to be like him?

"That's the plan, boy," he said. "That's the plan."

* * *

**The End! Or, you know, the beginning. Because, well...**

**Optional Thing to Read: At some point in the future, I'm really hoping to write a (probably long) fic about Butler (the one we **_**do**_** all know and love) and his childhood and his life in the Academy from his own birth to the birth of his charge, or at the very least the birth of Juliet. I almost didn't mention this as I have been planning to do this for a long time now and even though it's all pretty much plotted out, I haven't typed more than a few basic bits about it. But having learnt that people knowing and hoping I'll write stuff does sometimes give me the encouragement I need to get my backside into gear and write it down instead of just thinking about it, I decided to mention it here. So please let me know if you think you'd like to read something like that. I have been dropping hints and references for the past couple of fics about Butler's childhood, including this one, so if you think you like what you hear, give us a shout.**

**Until then, I hope you enjoyed this one! Feel free to let me know what you think!**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


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